


My Last Hour

by nikifforov



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Blood and Injury, Car Chases, Enemies to Friends, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Exploitation, Friends to Lovers, Illegal Activities, Kidnapping, M/M, Miscommunication, Near Death Experiences, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Organized Crime, Racist Language, Sexist Language, Thieves and Criminals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-02-27 10:09:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13246005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikifforov/pseuds/nikifforov
Summary: InTime!AU - In a world where minutes have replaced money, Yuuri's family is constantly running out of time. Hasetsu is a dying town and survival is becoming more and more difficult. After an event that irreparably ruins their lives, Yuuri and Phichit travel to Russia, the richest Timezone in the world, in search of the people responsible for so much misery and pain. When Yuuri crosses paths with Viktor Nikiforov, a lonely orphan and heir to one of the world's greatest fortunes, he realises that with even all the time in the world - some things can't last forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> tempora mutantur et nos mutamur in illis - the times are changing, and we change in them
> 
> \- ovid: tempora labuntur

It’s barely two in the morning when Mari's screaming wakes him up, startled out of a restless sleep by the high pitched sound of her cries. He’s awake and on his feet in a heartbeat, his eyes automatically flying to the black numbers printed on his forearm as they’ve done every single morning since his twenty-first birthday. He has six hours and twenty-nine minutes left. Used to the cold hard panic that hits him whenever he sees just how low his timer’s run, it still never fails to take his breath away. There are only _six hours and twenty-nine minutes_ between him and death.

Tripping over his own two feet in an effort to grab his glasses off his desk, Yuuri’s out the door just as Mari screams again, one of the Onsen’s robes wrapped tightly around his body. Her room is further down the hall and the robe flutters around his ankles as he runs, almost crashing headfirst into the Time Agent standing motionless in the dark. The light sitting on top of the robot-like shaped machine flashes bright red as Yuuri runs past, but he pays it no attention. A second later he’s in Mari’s bedroom, out of breath and stumbling through the dark. They can’t afford to live spread throughout the house when every extra step is worth an extra second, so most of the living quarters of the Onsen are left uninhabited and bare.

She’s kneeling on the floor beside her bed when Yuuri stumbles into his sister’s room, tears streaming down her face. Seeing him rush through the door she lunges forwards, stretching out her arm towards him with another shuddering sob. Yuuri doesn’t ask - there’s no need and no time. Without hesitation he grabs her wrist, pressing it up against his own. Immediately a high-pitched whistling noise fills his ears and he feels his heartbeat speed up, warmth seeping through his veins while he transfers as many precious minutes to Mari as he can afford. When the siblings break apart, his lock shows three hours and thirteen seconds.

Yuuri flops down on the floor while Mari slumps backwards against the side of the bed, running a hand through her dishevelled hair. She looks as drained as he feels, pale with exhaustion. A moment later their parents come rushing into the bedroom, sleeves already rolled up.

“Mari! How much?” Hiroko sinks to her knees beside her daughter, enveloping in her arms. They both look so frail and tired, Yuuri’s heart aches.

“I gave her three hours,” he replies softly, helping Mari to her feet after Hiroko releases her. She offers him a shaky smile, absentmindedly touching the numbers stamped across her forearm. “It won’t be enough to last the night and tomorrow, but it’ll be enough for now.” _Enough to stop her from dying._ He doesn’t have to speak his thoughts out loud for the rest of his family to catch on. It’s happened too often already. Hasetsu’s never been a rich town, but with more and more families moving towards more prosperous Timezones, business at the Onsen is running far too slow for them to survive off.

“How could this have happened?” Toshiya snaps, resting his hands upon his wife’s shaking shoulders. “Didn’t you check before you went to sleep?!” Good Natured as he is, Yuuri’s never heard his father get angry at anyone or anything. But standing there in his pyjamas, hair sticking out in all directions, Toshiya’s voice carries loud and clear through the small bedroom.

“Mari!” He sounds more upset than angry then, leaning against the doorframe to take the weight off his injured leg. “You should have asked for more time before going to sleep. Thank God you woke up, who knows what might have happened if you hadn’t. We could have lost you.”

“I felt it..” Mari murmurs, curled up on the bed with a blanket and Yuuri’s arm around her shoulders. “It hurt, all the way up my arm. It burnt like a fire and woke me up. It felt like someone was warning me. Someone was telling me to wake up.”

After another close call like that, there’s no talk of going back to bed. Sleeping is a waste of precious time, moments better spent doing other things. It’s barely four in the morning when Yuuri trudges into the small kitchen of the Onsen after having changed out of the robe and his pyjamas,  feet dragging across the matt as he makes his way over to take a seat at the low table. A mug of tea and a plate of chopped fruit are already waiting for him, and he stares blankly ahead while eating the meagre meal. They’d had to use up most of the minutes leftover from his late Grandfather’s will to get through the day, both Yuuri and Mari’s clocks up to sixteen hours. His heart aches at the sight of how close his parents are cutting it.

In the corner of the room the Time Agent beeps loudly, sensors scanning the numbers on Yuuri’s arm. He doesn’t know why their Government is so interested in knowing exactly how desperate the Timezone’s poorest citizens are, but he’s sure Hasetsu’s records pale in comparison to other places.

He’d turned twenty-one barely a week ago, and already his given twenty-four hours are used up. Twelve had paid for a long overdue electricity bill, the other ten had bought them desperately needed food and drink. With all reserves close to being depleted, Yuuri knows they’re running dangerously low again.

“When do you start working today, Yuuri? When do classes end?”

His parents are already dressed and ready for their shift at the nearby factory, both of them sipping a steaming mug of tea. It’s a dreary job, spending hour after hour pressing various buttons on a machine while the world keeps spinning outside. Even with two salaries they can barely afford to continue surviving with the Onsen’s failing business. It’s nothing but nostalgia that keeps the Katsuki family in their dying town.

“Three-thirty. But I’ll skip P.E and go to work earlier.” Yuuri doesn’t tell them that he’s long stopped attending classes at the local community college set up for the kids of poor factory workers, or that he’s been spending his days serving coffee and food to the builders on the building site just outside Hasetsu. Mari knows he’s been skipping class to work; Yuuri’s never been able to keep anything hidden from her.

“Alright, darling. Have a good day at college. Work hard, and always do your best.”

His mother’s smile is feeble when she kisses the top of his head before rushing over to help her husband, letting him lean his weight upon her shoulders. Toshiya’s left leg is still bandaged from a factory accident he’d had over a month ago, the muscles in his thigh torn. Tears threaten to gather in his eyes as Yuuri watches his parents struggle out the front door, ashen faces pale against the brilliance of the spring sun.

It’s unfair how the seasons have no remorse in face of their struggles.

Mari joins him in the kitchen soon after, dressed in her Onsen uniform. They’d had to let the rest of the employees go months ago, unable to afford paying their wages. With barely six customers a month, Yuuri isn’t sure how much longer they’ll be able to keep the Hot Springs open. It pains him to see the product of his parents’ love and passion looking so rundown, stonewalls crumbling under the weight of a scantily patched up roof.

“You skipping class again today, then? You ever going to tell them? They know something’s up, with the amount of time you come home with every day. They just want you to tell them in your own time.” She doesn’t sugarcoat the harsh truth and he just shrugs. As soon as his parents are out of sight he deposits his bag of school books back behind the door, as he always does.

“Akari’s out sick. The baby’s coming soon, I’m covering her shifts until she comes back.”

“Okay.” Mari settles down on one of the pillows, picking up her chipped mug of tea. “You should sell those books. All they do is gather dust in the corner.”

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Yuuri finishes going about getting ready to work. His uniform is tucked under his jacket, a second rucksack packed with a meagre lunch waiting for him beside the door. He knows she’s right. It’s been months since he’s looked at the college books, and he doubts he’ll ever do again. They’re all that’s left of his hopes and desires, of his wishes to leave Hasetsu and start a better life for himself and his family somewhere far away. But people like him weren’t meant to dream, and the books remain nothing more than a painful reminder of the life he almost could have had.

“I will.”

- 

Phichit’s already waiting for him once Yuuri arrives at the outskirts of Hasetsu, and together they continue onwards towards the building site. He does up the last few buttons of his high-vis vest while Phichit smiles brightly to try and hide how tired and rundown he looks.

“Morning, sleepyhead! I already thought you weren’t going to show up! Are you excited for today?”

“You know I always show up..” Yuuri grumbles, holding up his security badge before they duck under the barrier and enter the building site. They both pretend not to notice the way Yuuri can’t help but double check his friend's timer, and they both pretend not to notice how few hours Phichit has left.

“Even though you wish you didn’t have to? I’m only teasing!”

Phichit has a strange spring in his step, enthusiastically waving good morning to every person they encounter. He’s met with nothing but sleepy stares and half-assed smiles interrupted by hearty yawns.

“But Phichit.. You know how much I love this job.”

“Cracking jokes is my speciality, Yuuri. You just go back to being the smart, nerdy one. Oh, by the way.. I saw Kumiko’s name on the board earlier on. When are you going to ask her out for coffee?”

“When I have enough time for coffee,” Yuuri mutters, his cheeks burning bright red at the thought of the beautiful architecture student working alongside the engineers on the project. “So, never. Change of subject, _immediately_.”

“At least talk to her.. Ask her what the hell this ugly ass building’s going to be, anyway.”

Yuuri can only agree with Phichit. The steel frame’s been up for weeks now, a monstrous tangle of thick, heavy berms and loose wires. Builders in high-vis vests are climbing all across the skeleton, hammering and drilling away. The building is an ugly metal construction in an otherwise scenic, untouched landscape. Hasetsu can only hope that it’ll bring a much needed kick to their dying economy.

The pair of them stick to the edge of the bustling construction site to keep out of the way, their destination a large white tent on the other side of the massive area. The smell off coffee and fresh bread greets Yuuri as they duck past the flaps and step inside the food tent. Already a queue of sleep deprived, dust covered builders has formed at the buffet, all of them clutching empty plates and mugs. Their supervisor greets them with a curt nod, motioning for them to take up positions. Phichit vanishes into the back of the tent to fetch the rest of the food while Yuuri finishes setting up the coffee station.

His friend is quick to return and together they begin the task of serving hungry builders their breakfast. On the table beside them a pile of empty plates and glasses begins to grow, higher and higher until it’s on the verge of collapsing. With a resigned sigh Yuuri looks up after the last worker is served. It’s a shitty job, impersonal, but it’s the only job far away enough from Hasetsu to ensure no one might accidentally recognise him. The secrecy is hard work, but shame blooms in his chest whenever he thinks of telling his parents. He’d had to throw his future away for the sake of staying alive. An unfair trade in an even more unfair life.

“It’s busy today, huh?” Phichit pipes up beside him, balancing a stack of crumb covered plates. There’s little else to serve as a distraction while they wash the plates and cups so Yuuri just listens to Phichit babble away. Secretly he’s grateful; Phichit’s unrelenting enthusiasm in face of their situation is the only thing that’s been keeping him going lately.

“Yuuri? Earth to Yuuri? Are you even listening to me?”

“I’m listening!” Yuuri blurts out, pulled from the depth of his own personal thoughts by Phichit splashing cold soapy water at his face. He splutters, indignantly taking off his glasses to dry them on his shirt. “I’m listening.”

“Didn’t look like it! Anyway, I was asking if Mari’s still working at the Onsen?”

“Yeah. Someone has to run it while the rest of us are busy.”

“And it can’t be you, because they think you’re at college with me. Makes sense!”

“Thanks for the reminder, Chulanot.” Yuuri replies, gloomily starting to stack the array of cups back into a shelf. The timer on his forearm ticks away without any concern or regard for his feelings - no matter how many times he stares at it, willing it to stop, it continues to run while he helplessly watches the seconds of his life drain away. Just once in his life he’d like to wake up without the tight chested feeling of panic cutting off his air, to be able to sink back into the soft warmth of his bed and return to sleep without a care in the world. How sickeningly naive and unrealistic of him.

Looking a little guilty, Phichit gently nudges his shoulder. “Sorry, Yuuri. I know you’d rather be there. I know how hard it is to lie to your family every day.”

“I know.”

The rest of the day passes in an uneventful blur. As the sun starts to set the building site quiets down, a heavy shadow falling across the array of machines parked all over the place. Yuuri and Phichit finish cleaning the food tent a little after eight, and it’s with remorse and a heavy heart that he watches Kumiko leave in her car.

They collect their wages from the Time Station. Yuuri stares blankly at his arm as his timer buzzes, an additional seven hours appearing on his skin a moment later. Beside him Phichit grumbles something about underpaid labour, and afterwards they leave together, jackets wrapped tightly around their shoulders.

As they walk back towards the centre of town, discussing in hushed voices what they think the building’s going to be, Yuuri suddenly stops. It’s a cool spring evening, the sun’s long since set and the sky sparkles with the brilliance of a billion stars.

But it’s so _noisy_.

The usually quiet narrow roads are crowded with people standing outside their houses, all of them speaking and yelling at each other over the sound of sirens in the background. Phichit immediately bids him goodnight before hurrying home, eager to check on his family’s safety. With his heart hammering in his chest Yuuri ventures forwards, his steps quickening before he breaks into a run; The sirens are coming from the direction of the Onsen.

It’s a rare sight to see so many of the small town’s remaining inhabitants gather outside their homes to just stand around and talk. Most of them can’t even afford to sleep more than four hours, let alone have a chat with their neighbours. Yuuri almost stumbles over his own two feet as he runs, his legs screaming in protest by the time he reaches his home.

A second, larger crowd is gathered outside the gates of the Onsen, every single head turning as Yuuri approaches. Immediately the chatter dies out and a path forms through the middle of the crowd, heads bowing as he passes. At the end of the path stands Minako. In her hand she’s holding a black feather, her expression one of deep sadness.

“Yuuri.. I heard the commotion, I came as fast as I could..”

His stomach drops at the sound of her voice, gaze fixed on the feather. The town’s newspaper is as shabby as its cranky old journalist, but it’s one of the last traditions remaining true to Hasetsu. Yuuri knows his parents usually read it on their way to work and there’s a pile of old issues stacked up for potential guests to read.

He remembers the first time he’d seen the feather, printed large across the front page. Sixteen people had gone missing in Takayama, a small city in the Gifu Prefecture. Two houses had been broken into and both families had disappeared without a trace. The kidnappers had left behind nothing but two black feathers nailed to the doors, an ominous symbol of darkness.

Another group had gone missing a week later, and then another. The only thing linking them had been the black feathers. Even with increased Time Agent presence and the Government’s promise to not rest until suspects are arrested for interrogation, no footage nor evidence linking to any potential suspects has ever been found.

And now there’s a black feather in Minako’s hands and over her shoulder he can see the remnants of their front door, splintered wood littering the path leading towards his home. Wordlessly brushing past his mother’s friend and his old ballet teacher Yuuri steps inside the front room, glass crunching under his feet. He doesn’t dare call out, doesn’t want to be met with heavy silence when he realises there’s really no one left to reply.

After the crowd outside dissipates and Minako finally leaves after Yuuri promises he’ll take care of himself and visit her the next morning to figure out what to do, he packs a few meagre belongings before heading down to the beach. The moon shines bright in the sky when he arrives, no one else awake to bother him. He digs his toes into the cold sand after finding a place to sit, glasses sliding down his nose after he closes his eyes. He can’t remember the last time he’d visited the beach, nor the last time he’d taken a moment to allow himself to _breathe_.

He can’t bring himself to care about his timer even though he knows he should. The sound of waves crashing onto the beach is almost hypnotising in the otherwise silent night, a lonely stray cat his only companion. But even in these peaceful surroundings his mind is racing.

Mari, his parents, his entire life. It’s gone, snatched from him in the blink of an eye. If only he’d left work early as Phichit had suggested after Yuuri had told him about Mari. The more rational side of him knows it’s an unrealistic thought, but a tiny voice at the back of his mind is still convinced he’d have been able to save them.

-

“Yuuri? Yuuri! Katsuki Yuuri!”

Blinking blearily, Yuuri opens his eyes. His cheek’s pressed up against the ground and sand sticks to his damp skin and clothes. His glasses are folded beside him when he reaches out to grab them, clumsily sliding them onto his nose.

“Katsuki Yuuri! Please, where are you?!”

Alarmed by the desperation in the voice Yuuri sits up, wiping the worst of the sand off his face. The tips of his shoes are soaked; He’d fallen asleep too close to the edge of the water. With a last ditch effort to free himself of sand, he stands up, shaking out his jacket. In the distance a figure’s standing by the side of the path, looking out across the ocean.

“Hello?” He calls out to make himself noticed, slowly starting to trudge towards the figure now hurrying in his direction. The closer they come, the more familiar they start to look. He reaches beneath his glasses to wipe the rest of the sleep out of his eyes before checking his timer. He has twenty-five minutes left. The numbers on his arm are enough to speed him up, tripping up over the dunes.

“Yuuri!”

“M-Mrs. Chulanot?”

If Phichit’s mother is surprised to find her best friend’s son is now sleeping on the beach, she doesn’t show it. Instead she all but throws himself around his neck, nearly sending them both flying back down the dunes. It’s only now, up close, that Yuuri notices how wrecked she looks. For as many years as he’s known Phichit’s family, never one has he seen his friend’s mother look anything but pristine. He can feel the familiar swell of anxiety in his gut when she looks up at him, make-up smeared across her cheeks.

“I-I thought you’d left town! Minako said you might be here, but I couldn’t see you. Oh, Yuuri! You’re my only hope!”

“No.. I’m sorry. Are you alright? Did something happen?”

_Just how many black feathers had been strewn across Hasetsu the night before?_

“M-My son. It’s Phichit! My only son!”

Immediately wide awake Yuuri uses his hands to steady the crying woman, gently shaking her shoulders to gain her full attention.

“What happened to Phichit?”

“H-He was attacked!”

“Where is he?”

“I-In the back of my car, j-just up the road!”

Without waiting for any more information he takes off running, staggering across the sand until he reaches the road passing by the beach. The Chulanot’s family is parked at the side of the road, lights still burning. Without hesitation Yuuri hurries over to the vehicle, yanking open the backdoor. A limp hand falls across the seat and Yuuri’s heart misses a beat.

Phichit’s shirt and jacket are torn in multiple places, deep gashes slashed across his chest and arms. Dried blood crusts around the edges of the wounds, the skin around the cuts bruised and battered. His eyes are swollen shut, hair matted and clotted with filth and blood.

“W-what happened?”

“We found him like this outside our house!” Phichit’s mother sobs, pushing Yuuri aside to kneel beside her son’s motionless form. She cups his cheek with trembling hands, placing a kiss to his forehead. “Thank God my husband went to check the letter box, I-I can’t bear to think what might have happened if he hadn’t! H-He gave Phichit his time. H-He didn’t survive it. He gave his life for our son, and now I need you to make sure he didn’t die for nothing!”

It’s becoming too much, too fast. The loss of his family still sits heavy in his heart, a pain he’s sure will never leave for as long as he lives. Phichit’s father had been a good, kind hearted man. Yuuri can only begin to try and imagine how many times he’d spent the night with his friend’s family as a child, staying up until late at night with Phichit’s father telling them wild fantasy stories of his youth. Yuuri had later found it that the stories he’d been told were far more glamorous than the truth.

His legs give out beneath him and he falls to the ground, stunned into silence. Had Phichit been attacked by the same people who’d left a feather on Yuuri’s front door? How would he ever be able to find them?

He’s interrupted by the sound of Phichit’s mother whispering his name, her eyes wide with fear and anxiety.

“Promise me, Katsuki Yuuri. Promise me you’ll keep my son alive. It’s all I can ask of you.”

Confused and overwhelmed Yuuri nods his head, blinking stupidly as he feels her hands under his arms. In one smooth movement she pushes him to his feet, then drags him over to deposit him in the driver’s seat of the car.

“I-I can’t.. I can’t dri-“

“Yes, you can. It’s easy, trust me. Just listen. Do you see that time box?”

She gestures to a small black box tucked in-between the two seats, the top indented just enough to comfortably place a wrist against the plastic. He recognises the machine from his Grandfather’s will. His mother had kept most of her father’s precious seconds stored on the top shelf of her cupboard, hidden away in a box just like the one in the car.

“It holds four months. It should be enough to get you out of Japan. Head to Russia. If there’s anyone who can help you find your family, they’ll be there. Trust me.”

“B-But how..”

“I don’t have time to explain, Yuuri. The car runs on solar energy. It’ll tank up during the day, and you can keep driving throughout the night.”

She reaches over to fiddle with his seatbelt, making sure it’s clipped in tightly before tapping the black screen situated beside the wheel. It springs to life and the interior of the car is filled with a robotic female voice, almost making Yuuri jump out of his skin.

“Welcome, Time Keeper.”

Phichit’s mother impatiently waves him off when Yuuri opens his mouth to ask another question, his head swimming. His bag gets thrown into the seat beside him and a moment later the woman straightens up. A map appears on the small screen, a series of green arrows showing the fastest route out of the town.

“There is nothing left for either of us here, Yuuri. Your family is no longer in this Timezone, and the only man I have ever loved is dead on the cold hard ground. We must both start down a new path now.”

“But I can’t! I-I don’t know where to go! I can’t take care of Phichit, he needs a hospital-“

“I’ve tended to his wounds. He needs rest, food, and time to heal. You _must_ make sure he survives.  Once you get to Russia, go to St. Petersburg. I have given him instructions on what he must do when you get there. This is more important than you can imagine, Katsuki Yuuri.”

She takes his hand, bringing their wrists together. Yuuri feels the warm rush of hours being poured into his timer. When she pulls away, the numbers make him widen his eyes.

_2 weeks._

“This is the last time you will see me. Take care of my son.”

It’s too late that he realises how low her timer is, and she’s too far away for him to grab. _Five, four, three-_

“And live.”

_Two, one._

Her body hits the ground with a loud thump, skin ashen and grey. The numbers on her forearm no longer glow but are colourless, a row of 0’s inked into dried skin. There’s no life left in her soul, no matter how many times he calls out to her. Almost instantly the car springs to life and all four doors close, a loud noise following the locks sliding into place. The screen flickers again and he can see the beach on it, the first of the green arrows blinking rapidly. The female voice speaks up again as the car starts to move, Yuuri’s knuckles standing out white as he clutches onto the steering wheel with all his strength.

“Welcome, Katsuki Yuuri.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no one ever told me that grief felt so like fear
> 
> \- c.c. lewis, a grief observed

Testimony to the bizarreness of their newfound situation, the car Phichit’s mother had provided breaks down just a few moments after they cross the Checkpoint just outside Osaka. A tall, electric metal fence divides the south of the Island from the north, the whirr of Time Agents patrolling the premises loud in the late afternoon silence. The road ahead and behind is deserted as the car crawls to a halt at the Checkpoint, two massive iron pillars blocking their path. Yuuri blanches at how much it costs to cross, but the Time Keeper refuses to listens to his pleading. Another ten weeks disappear off his timer, and he’s getting increasingly more worried that they’ll run out even before they reach Tokyo. 

When the engine dies and the screen flickers black, the two of them abandon the car at the side of the road and complete the rest of the journey to Osaka on foot. The silence around them as they walk is excruciating; Both of them lost in thought. Yuuri can still see the broken down door of the Onsen, the shattered glass and the feather nailed to the doorpost. He wonders where his family is now, if they’re still alive, if they’ve given up all hope on him rescuing them - or if they even had any to begin with. He can barely afford to keep himself and Phichit alive, how on earth is he supposed to face a system that thrives off the poverty and pain of others?

They don’t talk, either. Phichit is staring at the street every time Yuuri risks a look at his friend, his hands curled into fists at his sides. Yuuri feels sick. He wants to reach out and comfort Phichit, to somehow try and reassure him that they’re going to be  _ okay _ , that they’ll make it out alive. He’s just not entirely sure he believes that himself.

They sneak into Osaka train station, steps hurried and quick to avoid wasting any unnecessary time. It’s getting rapidly dark outside and the station’s mostly empty, the few people that are around not paying either of them much attention. It’s a stifled atmosphere, as thick and heavy as the heat during the Summer days in Hasetsu.

Yuuri’s never been on a train before. When it rolls into the station with bright flashing headlights and the screech of metal on metal, he starts chewing on his fingernails, anxiously standing behind Phichit. The inside of their carriage looks like something out of a 1950’s Vogue edition; The seats are plush and covered in a cream pink colour, adorned with silver cushions on their side. The walls are a flurry of colour on a white background. People in marvellous dresses and black silk suits walking the streets of a foreign city smile down at him. In the corner a plant grows, branches heavy with green leaves stretching out across the ceiling.

The journey isn’t long and while Phichit relaxes into the comfort of the seats and provided blankets for some rest, Yuuri can’t help but fidget restlessly, obsessively checking his timer every few seconds. He only stops after Phichit kicks him in the shin, wordlessly gesturing at the two people sitting across the corridor from them. They’re staring at Yuuri with wide and curious eyes. He can’t help but notice how relaxed they seem, neither of them sparing their forearms a second glance - both timers neatly covered by clothes more expensive than Yuuri’s entire family home. Phichit grunts something and Yuuri nods in understanding, reluctantly forcing himself to look out the window instead. They have to try and blend in.

When they get off the train in Tokyo, it feels like they’ve stepped into an entirely different universe. 

The platform is busy with the bustle of a thousand commuters heading in all directions, the entire station filled with the rumble of voices and footsteps. Yuuri stumbles over suitcases and travel bags left and right as they walk off the platform, so busy profusely apologising to anyone that’ll listen that he almost loses Phichit in the midst of the crowd.  After that they make sure to stick close together and Yuuri inhales gulps of fresh air once they manage to leave the maze of station corridors and get out onto the streets, his heart racing so fast he’s sure people around him can hear it. 

Tokyo, in all its might and glory, is unlike anything Yuuri’s ever seen. The bustling metropolis blooms around them, alight and alive with a million lights and the voices of twice as many people weaving their way through the crowded streets. However grand the capital city had appeared in Yuuri’s hazy, midsummer daydreams, his imagination had come nowhere near the splendour of the real thing. He quickly notices how much slower the people walk, and now much noisier it is than in Hasetsu, or even Osaka. People don’t hurry to save time; they stroll leisurely, stop to chat, hang around in groups and laugh. There’s no grief or poverty, no dead bodies laying in the gutter, waiting to be collected.

It’s late, so they decide to stay in Tokyo for a night to give Phichit’s wounds a chance to heal, and both of them to recover some strength. Yuuri had been diligent in his duty of changing the bandages every day, and whatever cream Phichit’s mother had smeared across her son’s injuries are working a miracle. The gashes have closed by the time Yuuri unwraps the last of the bandages that evening, sitting cross-legged on his bed in a hotel room, leaving behind only red welts which would eventually fade into scars. He stands up to throw away the bandages before going over to wash his hands, miserably staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The heavy bags under his eyes seem to have become permanent, giving his pale face an even more haggard look. His cheekbones stick out like cutting edges, eyes hollow and void of any spark. He hasn’t slept properly since they’d left Hasetsu; The images of the Onsen’s broken down door and Phichit’s mother dead on the street haunting his dreams. Instead he stays awake, helplessly watching the seconds on his timer tick away. 

“It’s loud here.” Phichit mumbles after Yuuri returns, and together the move to look out the window. The Hotel they’ve chosen isn’t the most glamorous, but just a night with warm water already costs more than they can comfortably afford. Below, the streets are bustling with people, and the sound of music blasts through the wide open doors of a building a little further down the road. Even with the sun gone, Tokyo looks as bright and awake as ever. Building lights shine like stars across the city spread out around them, and Yuuri doesn’t think he’d ever be able to get used to the heaving unrest that weaves through the streets. 

“There’s so many happy people..” Yuuri observes, eyes fixed on a group of adolescents stumbling down the pavement on the other side of the road. They’re all dressed in extravagantly scanty clothes blooming with colour and sparkling accessories, faces painted with a green substance that glows in the dark. “No one’s looking at their timers.. No one seems to care.”

Phichit shrugs, still staring out across the bumpy skyline of Tokyo’s Shibuya District. In the distance, Yuuri hears the sound of trains coming and leaving Shibuya Station, the rattling of wheels against metal blending in with the general thrum of sound echoing around the city’s skyscrapers. Even after they close the window, the noise is so overwhelming that Yuuri doubts either of them will get any of the much needed rest they so crave. 

He takes a seat on his bed, picking up the Time Box. He presses it up against his wrist, watching the amount of hours on his forearm go up by forty. When Phichit wanders over, he does the same to his friend. 

“How much is left on that?”

Yuuri checks, swallowing dryly at how low the number on the display is.

“Just over two months.. It’s getting more and more expensive to cross the Checkpoints. I don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to go before we’re stuck.”  _ Without a way back, trapped in limbo. _

“Some escape plan this is. We might be stuck here for good.” Phichit mutters. He doesn’t give Yuuri time to reply before disappearing to lock himself in the bathroom. Soon after the sound of water running fills the room, and Yuuri’s left alone with his thoughts. 

They’d just left Hasetsu when Yuuri had realised that his friendship with Phichit would forever remain damaged by the attacks and his mother’s death. The atmosphere in the car had remained hostile and unfriendly, neither of them willing- or able, to take the first step and strike up a conversation. Even in the train they’d exchanged barely more than ten words, the rest of the journey passing in uncomfortable silence. He isn’t sure if there even is a way to start trying to fix things between them, and the weight of his guilt is heavy upon his shoulders. It’s without question that he takes the blame upon himself. If only he’d been a little bit quicker, a little bit smarter. What hangs in the air between them now is a far cry from the bond they’d shared growing up, and it hurts to see their friendship crumble into nothingness. 

Yuuri is so lost in thought, so preoccupied with fiddling with the hem of his sleeve that he doesn’t realise the water stopped running until Phichit is standing beside his bed again, dressed in the clothes they’d found bundled up in the boot of the car. His hair is still damp when he picks up a towel to dry it, cheeks rosy from the warm water. 

“I want to go out.”

Yuuri looks up at him in surprise, eyes wide behind his glasses. “O-Out? Out where?”

“Outside. We’re in Tokyo. We’re never going to be here again, we might as well make the most of it. I want to go see where that music’s coming from.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea- Phichit, we barely have enough time to survive, let alone get to St. Petersburg-“

“I don’t even want to go there. Who says I do?” Phichit drops the towel onto his bed, hands curled into tight fists again. Inadvertently, Yuuri moves backwards. It’s the first time they’ve mentioned his mother’s mysterious instructions, but it still feels like it’s too soon to broach the subject. “I don’t know why you think we have to go there.”

“Because your mother told me to take you there.”

“How do I know that? You could be lying. Maybe you think your family’s there, and that’s why you’re insisting so damn hard. You won’t to save them, don’t you? Do you even care about what happened to me?!”

Yuuri feels like he’s been punched in the gut. His mouth hangs open as he stares at Phichit, the blood draining from his face. 

“Phichit, your mo-“

“No! She would never have done all those things you said she did! She wouldn’t have just left me!”

Phichit’s voice gets louder by the second, and Yuuri can see the red hot angry tears gathering in his friend’s eyes. 

“I-I don’t know why she told me to take you there..”

“I knew her better than you did! She wasn’t any agent. She wasn’t someone who’d lie to me about everything! She was my mother,  _ mine _ , and she wouldn’t want this for me. Not ever. I’m not going to Russia with you, Yuuri. I refuse.”

Phichit pauses to take a deep breath, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’m going out now. Either you stay or you come along, but you can’t stop me. Not anymore.” He throws an expectant look over his shoulder before marching over to the door and throwing it open. Yuuri has no choice but to scramble to get dressed before following him out and back down to the lobby. 

Together they step out into the thriving night, and are immediately ambushed by the waves of people walking up and down the street. Without thinking Yuuri reaches out to grab ahold of Phichit’s hand and they cross over, sticking close to each other. 

Yuuri isn’t sure where to look. All around them partygoers move to and fro, all in various stages of intoxication. The glowing green substance he’d seen smeared across the faces of the teenagers turns out to be glowing neon paint, and it comes in a thousand brilliant different colours. It’s like nothing he’s ever seen before, and his head starts spinning at the flashing Billboards hanging on the sides of the surrounding buildings. He feels Phichit give his hand a pull and he stumbles forwards, muttering apologies left and right whenever he bumps into someone. 

“Look!” 

Phichit has to yell in his ear for Yuuri to be able to understand him, and he follows his friend’s outstretched finger to where he’s pointing at the entrance of the building which turns out to be a nightclub. A burly, muscular bodyguard dressed in all black is standing outside the doors, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. Phichit and Yuuri watch on as a pair of drunk girls stumble up to the bouncer. One of them stretches out her arm after the man presents a Time Box. After a while he steps to the side and the girls disappear inside the building, squealing and hugging onto each other.

Phichit turns to face Yuuri, holding up their own Time Box with a determined expression. Before Yuuri can argue that they need the rest of the time to complete their journey, Phichit’s stepped up to the bouncer and is transferring away their precious hours. Instead of checking for ID, the man simply steps aside and Phichit vanishes inside the club, leaving Yuuri once again with no choice but to follow. 

The inside of the club is a claustrophobic mess. Yuuri’s immediately assaulted by the thick smell of smoke, sweat and alcohol. The heaving crowd is loud and messy; High pitched, shrill laughter and people yelling over the bass heavy music making him feel dizzy. In a desperate attempt to escape the mayhem they snag two chairs lined up against the bar, and Yuuri can barely hear himself think over the music. Beside him, Phichit’s mouth is moving. 

“What?”

Phichit leans in closer, a bright excitement shining in his eyes. He hasn’t seen him smile since they’d left Hasetsu, but that this bar, of all places, is where Phichit decides to let off steam, isn’t a comforting idea.

“I said, what are you drinking?!”

“Uhm.. Water? Phichit, I don’t think-“

He’s cut off when the song changes and the crowd whoops loudly, the packed dance floor alive with a mass of swaying bodies. 

“Phichit-“ He tries again, tugging at his friend’s sleeve. “I don’t think we should be here. How much time did you give the bouncer?”

“Relax, we still have plenty,” comes the reply. A second later two large glasses are placed in front of them, and Phichit’s transferring more of their time into the barkeeper’s Time Box. “Just drink up with me.”

He raises the glass to his lips, taking a hesitant sip. The liquid is thick and coloured an ocean dark blue, with small pieces of silver glitter floating around in it.

Phichit turns to face him, his lower lip sticking out like it does whenever he’s anxious. 

“I know I uhm.. I owe you an apology. I know what happened at home wasn’t your fault. And I know you’ve lost your family too. I believe you when you say my mother told you to take me to Russia, even though I have no idea why.. I’ve never been there in my entire life.”

Yuuri hesitates as well, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“I understand that you’re upset with me, Phichit. But you have to believe me- I’d never do anything to hurt you, or anything that would put us in danger. I know your entire life’s been turned upside down, mine has too. I never thought I’d get to leave Hasetsu, let alone see Tokyo with you. And now we’re here and it’s so loud and noisy, and.. I’m just as lost and alone as you are.”

“You’re not alone.” Phichit protests, reaching out to take his hand and give it a squeeze. It’s the first of many small steps in the right direction, and for now Yuuri allows himself to be happy with that he’s got. Encouraged, he squeezes Phichit’s hand in return. “You have me, remember? And I have you. As long as that’s true, neither of us are lost or alone. Now drink up! We deserve just one night of fun, don’t you think? Tomorrow we’ll find a train, and we’ll leave Japan. I promise.”

Yuuri drinks.

-

“Looks like someone has had a  _ bit _ too much Blaumeister.. Poor zing.”

The moment Yuuri opens his eyes, he remembers why he never drinks. His head feels like it’s about to split in two, and even with his glasses on his vision is blurry. A strange face is hovering only faces above his, two large green eyes curiously peering at him. 

“He drank the whole thing in one go because he was nervous.” Yuuri hears a familiar voice say somewhere to his right, and the green eyes blink before widening in realisation and awe. 

“Ze whole glass? In one go?”

“Uhu.”

Yuuri closes his eyes again only to feel the gentle touch of someone’s fingers on his jaw. His muscles feel like they’ve been injected with lead, limbs too heavy to move. He doesn’t have the strength to resist when the fingers open his mouth. Someone gasps and whoever’s kneeling over him laughs. 

“I can see zat.”

“His tongue!”

“Do not vorry. It vill be back to normal in a few hours.. I think! But I’ve never zeen one zis colour..”

“Let me see!” A woman’s voice speaks up and there’s the sound of feet shuffling. The fingers on his jaw open his mouth a little further and she snorts, barely stifling a giggle. 

“Holy shit. This little guy has balls!”

The fingers withdraw and Yuuri closes his mouth, indignantly clearing his throat. 

“Yuuri!”

Phichit’s hands are on his shoulders when Yuuri struggles against gravity to sit up, clinging onto his friend’s arm when a wave of dizziness rushes over him. Someone slides his glasses back onto his nose and he opens his eyes again, blinking blearily. 

“Wha..”

“Shh. Try not to speak too much. I vill hurt.” Yuuri recognises the green eyes. They’re attached to a young man with curly blond hair and a sly smile. His face is covered in various shades of luminescent paint that glows in the low light. When he speaks, Yuuri sees that his lips are painted green and his teeth are a bright, vulgar shade of pink. “Sara? Do you have ze water?”

A brown haired girl appears beside Phichit and the green eyed stranger. She has bright blue streaks of paint in her hair and eyebrows, a glass of water in her hand. 

“Here. Drink.”

Yuuri takes the glass. His throat feels like sandpaper and the cool liquid is wonderfully soothing. He whines without realising it when the glass is empty, but Sara is quick to hand him a second one which he downs just as fast as the first. His vision clears a little and he can properly focus on the people around him. 

Phichit’s sitting cross-legged beside him, hands still on his shoulders for support. He’s missing his shirt - chest covered in glowing pink handprints. His hair is a tousled mess on his head and he’s grinning from ear to ear, green paint smeared across his lips and jaw. 

“You’re awake!”

“They shouldn’t even be here.” A fourth voice interrupts. A sour looking young man is leaning against the wall behind the girl, arms crossed. “They probably illegally crossed the Checkpoints. It’‚ been happening more and more, I saw it on the news. They certainly don’t  _ look _ like they belong here.”

“Mickey!” The girl snaps, twisting to glower at the boy. “Shut the hell up and go get some more water.”

“I’m not getting him more water!”

“Then shut up!” She turns back to face Yuuri, smiling apologetically. “I’m sorry. He’s grumpy because his  _ girlfriend _ didn’t show up tonight. I’m Sara. How are you feeling? It’s Yuuri, right?”

Yuuri blinks stupidly at her, swallowing thickly. Beside him Phichit coughs. 

“H-Huh? Oh, yeah. Y-Yuuri. That’s me.. Where are we..”

A sudden thought strikes him and his heart almost stops. In one rapid movement he brings his arm up to his face, squinting at the numbers.

_ One year - Six months - Five weeks - Forty days - One hour - Ten minutes - Thirty-nine seconds.  _

“Don’t worry, Yuuri. Chris was kind enough to lend us some time. You can relax.”

“Yes yes, do not vorry, Yuuri. Your cute friend asked me to make sure you vould not run out of time while you slept.” The green-eyed stranger, Chris, beams at him. 

Yuuri doesn’t hear him. He’s staring transfixed at the numbers on his forearm, mouth hanging open stupidly. One year. Never in his life has he ever had anything close to a month on his timer. Now he has a year, and it’s simultaneously the best and worst feeling of his life. 

“I-I can’t.. Take it back..”

“I vill not!” Chris protests, waving off any further arguments. He offers Yuuri a hand after standing up, pulling him to his feet. They’re standing in the middle of a room. A few black leather seats and sofas have been pushed up against the wall on either side. It’s mercifully quiet, the club’s loud music muffled by the walls. A lonely disco ball is spinning from a thread attached to the ceiling, its reflection throwing a multitude of colours across the walls and floor. 

Sara beckons him over to one of the sofas, making sure he sits down properly. “Private back room,” she explains after seeing his questioning expression. “It belongs to Chris. We come here when the music is crap, or the club’s too full. Comes with free drinks too- although that’s probably not really a bonus, in your case.”

“What happened to me?” Yuuri whispers, closing his eyes to try and relieve the headache raging on behind his skull. Across the room Phichit and Chris stand chatting. Mickey’s nowhere to be seen. 

“You drank too much Blaumeister. Your friend said you downed an entire glass in just a few seconds.. Impressive. But really fucking stupid. You’re supposed to  _ sip _ it and make it last for hours.”

“The blue drink.. I only wanted water.” 

“Blaumeister is as far from being water as it gets, Yuuri. Your poor duckling.”

“What is it?”

“Basically? Liquid sugar. Bars like to add food colouring and glitter. It gives you energy, so you can dance and party longer and harder. The one you had however, was a.. special version. The bartender must’ve misheard your friend’s order, or thought he’d prank you. I’ll get Chris to talk to him.”

“What does special order mean?” Yuuri can still taste the drink on his tongue; Mesmerising to look at but sickeningly sweet in his mouth. 

Sara tilts her head a little, reaching out to neaten his sweaty hair. 

“Have you guys ever heard of LSD?”

“Uh, no. What’s that?”

“Ze best substance in Tokyo!” Chris pipes in. He approaches with Phichit in tow, moving his hips to the faint sound of music. Yuuri feels sick just watching him. “Actually, ze best substance in Japan. Is it not simply amazing?!”

“ _ Chris _ .” Sara scowls, shaking her head at his enthusiasm.

“Vat? Do not pretend you do not love it! Although.. I must have a vord vith ze barkeeper. He puts in far too little. I do not even feel a zing!”

“Whatever it is, I think he put in more than enough.” Yuuri deadpans. “Are we still at the club?”

“Yes! In ze best private room zey have to offer!”

“Good. Phichit, come on. We’re leaving.”

“But Yuuri-“

“Please? I really want to go to bed.”

Defeated, Phichit nods. 

“Thank you. Chris, please take your time back. I can’t keep it.”

“Huh? Oh no, it vas a gift for you. You ken keep it.” Chris offers him a bright smile, pupils blown wide. He’s still moving and Yuuri notices his hands are trembling. Feverishly shaking his head, and regretting it a second later, he sticks out his arm towards the man.

“No. Take it back. All of it.”

Pursing his lips, Chris stares at him in silence for a few moments before bringing their arms together. Yuuri feels the familiar rush, and he tries to quell the disappointment of watching the year vanish off his timer. 

Chris pulls away after a while and stands up, gesturing for Sara to follow him. “Zere. You are more zan velcome to stay here as long as you vould like. We vill be outside, if you decide to join us again. If not..” He throws a wistful look in Phichit’s direction, shoulders visibly sagging. “It vas lovely to meet you. Have a good night. And Yuuri? Do not look at your tongue for a while, ja?”

The door closes behind them and Yuuri slumps back against the sofa, running a hand through his hair. Phichit quietly takes a seat beside him, reaching out to wipe some paint off Yuuri’s cheek. 

“I’m so sorry, Yuuri. I never thought.. I should have listened to you. I was selfish.”

Looking over, Yuuri manages a tired smile. “It’s okay. Let’s just go back.”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blaumeister is definitely not a thing, although it should definitely be.
> 
> Come say hi to me on tumblr @nikifforov if you want to chat, I love meeting new people. 
> 
> Thank you for your comments and kudos, I really appreciate it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fear is a phoenix. you can watch it burn a thousand times and still it will return
> 
> \- leigh bardugo

Yuuri awakes to the sound of seagulls and the potent stench of fresh fish and seawater. His hammock sways from left to right as the ship sails through the waves, his stomach turning unpleasantly with each jolt. Beside him Phichit’s bed is empty, and the sound of his people yelling at each other drifts down from the deck above. Groaning, Yuuri sits up to find his glasses. He’s lost all count of how just long they’ve been on the ship now, surrounded by nothing but vast skies and the great blue ocean. 

They’d found a Captain in need of a few additions to his crew for his trading vessel docked in Niigata port, set to sail to Vladivostok the very next morning. The rough, sea worn looking man offered them a simple deal; work hard, survive, and be granted safe passage - slack off and be left to die. They hadn’t had any other choice than to accept, both their timers running low and brains struggling to find any other way to get off the island. The Time Box remained a secret hidden away at the bottom of Yuuri’s rucksack, to only be used in emergencies. 

He swings his legs over the edge of the hammock and stands up, stretching out his stiff limbs. It’s cold and damp in the belly of the ship, and the endless creaking of wood and metal is accompanied by the foul stench of sweaty clothes and unwashed crew members. It’s a far cry from the brief luxury they’d experienced with Chris and Sara in Tokyo, but they’re hardly in a position to complain. Not that they have much time to contemplate their situation. Both Yuuri and Phichit have rapidly fallen into the harsh routine implemented on the boat. During the day they aid the cook in the ship’s crowded kitchen, run errands for the Captain and complete all more delicate tasks the rest of the bulky, muscular crew are too large to do. For once in his life Yuuri appreciates his lack of height. It spares him from having to work in the engine room, away from the brash company of the other heathens the Captain’s employed.

Yuuri grips onto the metal railing as he climbs the stairs onto the deck, zipping up the too large windbreaker serving as a uniform. The ship is already alive with people eating stale bread and drinking coffee, most of the crew squatting on the metal crates or steel tanks they’d loaded aboard in Japan. Phichit’s leaning against the railing not far off, wistfully staring out across the horizon while chewing on an apple. He looks up as Yuuri approaches, smiling tiredly.

“Hey.”

“Morning.. Sorry I overslept.”

Phichit shakes his head, taking a final bite of his apple before throwing it overboard.

“Don’t worry about it. I told the Captain you were still struggling with seasickness, so he said I could let you sleep.”

Yuuri raises an eyebrow, holding onto the ship’s railing to try and placate his upset stomach.

“That seems uncharacteristically kind of him.”

They’d learnt very fast that the Captain of the ship, a man whose name was shrouded in as much mystery as his origins, wasn’t a pleasant person. Thankfully for them he stayed in his cabin most of the day, only venturing outside every now and then to bark commands at the crew. The only time Yuuri had properly seen his face had been when they’d first gotten hired; wrinkled skin littered with scars, and deep blue eyes that have seen too much pain for one lifetime.

“I guess. But he did say we’d be arriving in Vladivostok soon! Not long now and we’ll be there at last. Then all we have to do is cross the country, and we’ll be in St. Petersburg. Piece of cake.”

Yuuri can’t help the groan of utter relief that escapes his mouth. “Oh, thank god. I don’t know how much more of this rocking I can take. Remind me never to get on a boat again, Phichit. I miss home.”

His friend laughs, clapping him on the shoulder with a nod. It doesn’t take much longer for the rest of the crew to finish eating and then start breaking apart, groups of twos and threes heading off in all different directions. Yuuri’s about to follow Phichit down to the sleeping hall where they’d been tasked to fix a pile of frizzled ropes when a voice calls out for him.

“Yuuri _Cat-Sucky_?”

Phichit snorts out a laugh and Yuuri sticks out his tongue, taking a deep breath before returning up to the deck.

“Yes?”

“Captain wants to see you.”

Yuuri nods. He ducks past the large man standing in front of the Captain’s door, knocking timidly before opening it to step inside. The cabin is large and luxurious, a starch contrast to the rest of the ship. Shelves piled with scrolls and books line the walls and a massive chandelier throws its light across the room. In the middle of the cabin stands a large table with a map spread out across it, and behind that stands the Captain, arms folded, expression expectant.

“Close the door and come here.”

Yuuri hesitantly does as he’s bid, stepping forwards until only the table is between them. They’re close enough for the Captain’s long arms to reach across the table and grab at Yuuri’s clothes, strong enough to drag him across the tabletop until they’re pressed up against one another. But his arms stay at his sides, and Yuuri’s anxious worries are nothing more than that; worries.

“You summoned me, Sir?” He mumbles, looking anywhere but at the Captain. Yuuri can still feel his gaze on his face even without seeing, his own eyes travelling downwards until they lock on the map spread out between them. It’s a crudely drawn map of the world, each Time Zone highlighted with a different colour. He reaches out to touch the corner where Japan’s been sketched, fingertips tracing across the sheet where he knows Hasetsu lies by the sea.

“You and your friend. You stay outta trouble tonight, you hear me?”

“Of course, Sir! But I don’t understand what you mean-“

“Just stay away from whatever the crew is doing. We’re docking tonight, while it’s still dark.”

Yuuri tilts his head, confused.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to wait until morning?”

“I know, I know. Night makes life a hell of a lot harder. But that’s how it’s gotta be, Cat-Sucky. Strictly speaking, I ain’t allowed to bring anyone over on this ship, so make sure you don’t get caught or make any trouble. Because if you do..” The Captain grimaces, running a hand across his stubbly excuse of a beard. “You won’t like what’ll happen to you and your friend.”

-

It’s still dark outside when the ship sails into the port, gliding silently through the inky black water. They’d turned off all the lights and engines, using the momentum of the waves to guide them past the storm breakers and into Vladivostok’s large port. The entire crew is below deck save for Yuuri who’s standing at the railing beside the Captain who’s dressed in a navy blue sailors uniform. He tightly grips onto the railing with gloved hands, the bitter cold wind blowing from the mainland colouring his cheeks and ears bright red. 

The port lays in relative darkness as they approach, a heavy bump signalling that they’ve reached the mainland. Yuuri can hear the stairs creak as heavy footsteps come up the stairs, and the crew start to spread out across the deck, voices kept in low whispers while the Captain watches on. Beside him Yuuri teeters, anxiously keeping an eye out while waiting for Phichit to appear. He shows up a while later, dressed in a black jumper and jeans.

“You okay?”

Yuuri nods, gritting his teeth to try and stop them from chattering. All around them the crew is at work hoisting metal containers and steel tanks to the edge of the ship, the only sound the crash of waves against the stone walls of the port and the occasional cough.

“You two, stay here.” The Captain grunts before heading away. They watch him approach the containers to observe two men tie ropes around each one, connecting them in one long chain. He mutters something under his breath and the man on his knees nods, tightening the knot he’d been tying.

“What are they doing with those?” Phichit whispers, huddling closer to Yuuri as they try and stay warm. Yuuri shrugs, chewing his lower lip. The Captain had failed to mention the barrels and containers while explaining his plan of getting the ship into the port without anyone noticing.

A second later a loud wail pierces the air and the front of the port lights up with a thousand spotlights. A group of armed guards start running down towards the docks, yelling in a foreign language Yuuri doesn’t understand. He grabs Phichit’s arm and pulls him down, both of them kneeling behind the railing and out of sight.

One of the crew starts yelling back at the guards, gesturing wildly with his hands while the rest of the men line up behind him. Yuuri makes to stand up, Phichit’s hand tightly gripping onto his arm, when the Captain grabs them both by the back of the shirt. Before he can yell out he feels himself get lifted into the air and a second later be dumped into one of the metal containers, landing in an undignified heap. Phichit lands in a pile on top of him a moment later.

“Be quiet.” The Captain hisses, gazing down at them with a scowl. From outside the container Yuuri can hear the sound of footsteps and someone yelling something in what has to be Russian. The Captain barks back a response before slamming the lid down on the container, trapping them both in darkness.

Blindly reaching out for Phichit, Yuuri has to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming when the barrel starts moving. Squashed together in the dark, he can feel his glasses slip off his nose and fall to the ground. When he reaches out to pick them up, something sharp slices open his palm and he winces, clutching it to his chest.

The barrel hits something hard then starts to fall, only to land in the water with a loud splash. Yuuri shrieks out just as Phichit curses, and they huddle closer together, barely daring to breathe while listening to the commotion going on on the ship. There’s the sound of voices yelling, followed by footsteps and the sound of people getting off the ship.

Yuuri loses track of how long they stay trapped in the container, the gentle waves nudging them in what he hopes is direction of the docks. The sirens eventually fall silent as the last of the voices fades away and they’re left in silence with only the rush of the ocean to keep them company.

“Yuuri?”

Phichit’s voice is loud in the silence, coming from somewhere to his right.

“Yuuri? Are you okay?”

“Yeah.. You?”

“I think I hurt my ankle when I fell, but I’m okay. Should we try and get out?”

“Yeah.”

He can feel Phichit start to move, hear the sound of metal scraping against metal then the bright light of the full moon floods the inside of the barrel. Phichit stands up and a second later he’s gone, leaving Yuuri behind.

“Phichit? W-where are we?”

“ _ Russia _ .” His friend’s face reappears a second later, grinning brightly. Yuuri tentatively reaches out his hands and Phichit helps him climb out of the barrel. His knees hit something hard and he crawls forwards on all fours, hands scrabbling over the rough stone. A moment later Phichit pushes his glasses onto his nose and the world slides back into focus.

The lights of the port shine in the distance and Yuuri can just about make out the silhouette of the ship that had carried them here, its body moving to and fro with the waves. Several people are standing around the ship while more of them are combing the port area with flashlights and dogs, the animals barking loudly.

They stay pressed down against the rock they’d climbed onto, the metal container floating back out to sea. Yuuri looks down at his timer, trying to cover the treacherous green glow with his hand. He has two weeks left, only two days less than Phichit. Laying there in the darkness with his glasses cracked and soldiers with dogs looking for them, Yuuri isn’t sure if he’s supposed to be laughing or crying. He makes a strangled noise in his throat and Phichit turns to face him, looking concerned.

“Yuuri?”

“Do you think they’re looking for us?”

“I don’t know..” Phichit risks another glance down at the port, puffing out his cheeks. “I think they’ve given up.. They’re all going back. I can’t see any of the other guys anywhere though.”

“We’re alone?!”

“Shhh! Yuuri, cam down. We’ve made it this far, we’re going to be Okay. Trust me. Do you trust me?”

Yuuri nods, blind panic robbing his thoughts and words.

“Okay, that’s good. Now we’re going to stand up and reeeeally slowly and quietly start walking. I think I heard a car earlier on, there has to be a road nearby. We’ll find a place to rest and then we’ll figure out what to do next. Okay? You with me?”

Again, Yuuri just nods, his knuckles white from just how hard he’s gripping onto his friend’s hand. Phichit doesn’t seem to mind because he doesn’t pull away, only giving Yuuri’s arm a quick tug after standing up. Yuuri follows, trying to keep his head down low as they climb up the small grassy mound separating them from the village beyond.

-

“This is as close as I go.”

Vladimir turns to face them, one stubby finger pointing out the windscreen and at the Checkpoint looming up above. It’s bigger than any Yuuri’s ever seen, protected by Time Agents and Time Keepers branding weapons alike. Vladimir turns off the engine, expectantly holding out his hand.

“I vill take my week now, zenk you very much.”

“Of course. Thank you for taking us this far.” Phichit murmurs, digging out the Time Box to transfer a week to the man behind the wheel. Vladimir nods with smug satisfaction, running a finger across his timer before looking straight ahead again.

“Euch. I hate this place. Look at zem, pretending zey are Kings and Queens, ven they are no better than us. Pah, I spit on this city. I vish you much luck.”

Yuuri leans over the back of Vladimir’s seat as Phichit climbs out to retrieve their bags from the boot, footsteps crunching in the thick layer of snow.

“I thought Russia was the richest Timezone in the world?”

“Zen you have thought wrong.” Vladimir spits out the words, narrowing his eyes as another black limousine passes through the Checkpoint, unchallenged by the men or robots guarding it. Beneath his thick furry hat and woollen scarf, he looks more like an angry bear than anything. “Only zome cities are allowed to be rich. Ze rest of the country is no better off zan anywhere else. Ze Government likes it like that. Keeping all ze time in ze cities helps zem keep an eye out on what is what. If you ask me, zey just want us to die while ze rich can live on forever. Like zey are cleansing ze world.”

There’s a knock at the window after Phichit retrieves the last of the bags and Yuuri clambers out of the truck, glad to stretch his legs. The snow crunches beneath his feet and he takes a moment to watch his breath rise, flying up and high over the skyscrapers of the city spread out just beyond the last Checkpoint. Vladimir doesn’t wait for them to say goodbye before leaving, revving the engine a few times as he drives a wide circle then heads back down the street they’d come up. Soon the lights of the truck disappear in the thick fog and Yuuri and Phichit are left to stagger through the snow, each equipped with a heavy bag and provisions they’d managed to acquire in Vladivostok.

At the Checkpoint they’re met by a guard with a bored looking expression seated inside a little hut at the side of the road. Thick, metal boulders protruding from the street block any and all access to the city. Attached to the side of the hut’s roof is a spiked barbed wire fence that trails off into the distance, its perimeter guarded by several Time Agents - the robots giving off a soft humming sound as they move to and fro in synchronisation. The man looks up as they approach, thick eyebrows furrowing at the sight of them.

“What do you vant?”

He speaks broken English with a thick Russian accent, cold grey eyes travelling over their bags and patched up winter coats in obvious distaste.

“We’re here to pass into the city,” Phichit speaks up, stepping forwards. He holds out his travel papers. They’re a crude forgery of the real thing, and the guard seems reluctant to let them pass as he studies the picture of a smiling Phichit glued to the paper.

“Why?”

“We just-“

“We’re here to train as Time Keepers.” Yuuri cuts in, also stepping forwards to present his documents. He straightens up at the man’s scrutinising expression, quickly sliding his glasses a little further up his nose.

“Eh?”

“Time Keepers.” Phichit repeats, nodding as he gets accustomed to the lie. “That’s it. My mother was a Time Keeper here. Maybe she’s in your records. You can look her up, if you want.”

One of the Time Agents glides over to them as the Keeper returns to studying the papers, muttering to himself in Russian. The machine stops right beside Yuuri and he bristles, fighting the instinct to move. Briefly, he wonders what had become of the Time Agent they’d had in the Onsen.

“Please present your documents.” A voice similar to the one from the car speaks up, and a small window opens on the front side of the machine. A bright green arrow starts to flash as the voice goes on to repeat the sentence in Russian, German, Japanese, and several further languages Yuuri doesn’t understand.

“ _ Да что ты о себе возомнил _ ?” The guard snaps, shoving the papers back into Phichit’s hands before rounding on the robot with his hands clenching and unclenching rapidly at his sides. “Zis is still my job, stupid robot. Go float around somevhere else, zo I can do work in peace! You two, go, go! I vould not recommend vorking as Time Keeper, but is your funeral. Go.”

Hurriedly taking his documents to slide back into his pockets, Yuuri follows Phichit across the Checkpoint after the pillars sink down into the ground. The sound of the guard cursing loudly in Russian follow them as they walk, skidding and sliding across the black ice covering the narrow pavement winding its way towards the city alongside the road.

A few cars pass them as they trudge along, eyes wide and mouths gaping at the sight up ahead. St. Petersburg comes to life right in front of their eyes; streets filled with elegantly dressed citizens enjoying slow walks in the crisp afternoon air, sleek cars with tinted black windows, buildings made of gleaming glass that stretch out to reach the sky and the high heavens beyond. It’s everything and at the same time nothing Yuuri’s ever dared imagine, unreachable yet close enough to touch. He inhales deeply, breathing in the cold air. Beside him Phichit’s gawking at the many shop windows lined up, each displaying clothes, jewellery and accessories more lavish than the last.

“We made it..” Yuuri chokes out, quickly checking his timer. It had taken them almost an entire week to travel from Vladivostok to St. Petersburg, crossing the country in a truck almost as old as the man driving it. They’d had to restock on provisions and contribute to gas after Vladimir threatened to leave them stranded in the forests around Novosibirsk. He feels that familiar sense of dread after seeing the numbers, each second ticking away a second he wishes he could chase after.

_ Six days. _

They collect their bags off the ground after they’ve finished staring, gradually making their way to the livelier city centre. Several times he has to stop himself from running or even walking at a brisk pace. It’s already hard enough to disguise just how foreign they are in the pale city, running around would only enlarge the target already painted on their backs. He’s surprised to see the amount of Time Agents patrolling the streets, the metal clad machines floating around in pairs. The rest of St. Petersburg seems accustomed enough to ignore them, so Yuuri and Phichit force themselves to do the same.

“Where do we go now?” Phichit asks after a while. They’re sitting on a small bench at the edge of a large square, steaming paper cups of watered down coffee clutched between frozen fingers. The square is relatively empty save for a small group of scrappily dressed men and women huddled together while a group of men in black uniforms stand nearby. “What else did Mama say?”

Yuuri closes his eyes, thinking back to the day he’d much rather just forget. A heavy shudder runs through him, sending drops of coffee flying in all directions.

“Nothing.. Phichit, she said nothing else.” He looks up, eyes wide behind his glasses. “She just said to come here, that we’d find help here, and..“ Her timer had run out before she’d had the chance to say anything else, but Yuuri doesn’t have the heart to say that out loud.

He’s become used to being able to tell whether Phichit’s enthusiasm is real or not; and this time, his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Okay. We’ll be fine, don’t worry!” Phichit’s voice is strained. “This is an adventure, Yuuri. Let’s just find a place to stay, and then we can figure things out. It’ll be fun-“

Something heavy and hard collides with Yuuri, knocking the coffee cup out of his hands. An arm wraps itself around his neck from behind and he’s dragged to his feet, tripping and stumbling. The group of people previously standing in the corner has dispersed, and the square descends into chaos. People are running in all directions, panicked screams filling the air. The men in black uniforms have taken up the chase as more of them enter the square from all sides, many brandishing weapons and batons to keep the petrified people trapped. Yuuri hears Phichit yell out his name, and a second later the pressure around his neck disappears. When he turns around, the man is on the floor behind him, eyes wide as he struggles against the restraining grip one of the uniformed men has around on shoulders.

“T-They came in too!” The man gasps out, vehemently fighting the guard. He points at Yuuri and Phichit, feet kicking aimlessly. “They’re not from here! I saw them cross the Checkpoint just after we did!”

Yuuri recoils as more uniformed men appear, and he feels a strong grip on his shoulder. The man beside him calls out in Russian and Yuuri watches with wide eyes as the rest of the people are rounded up while a massive black van pulls up. The back door opens and the uniformed guards start pushing the people towards the car, dealing blows with punches and batons whenever someone tries to resist. Yuuri and Phichit stumble forwards, helplessly clinging onto their small rucksacks and each other.

“Wait! There’s been a mistake!” Phichit calls out in panic, wincing at the angry slap striking him across the cheek. “W-We’re allowed to be here! We have documents!”

“Следи за своим ртом!” The man snaps, ignoring Phichit’s continued pleads and begs as they’re forced to join the rest of the people queueing up to be locked away in the van. Yuuri can hear children crying, the angry barking of dogs mixing in with the sound of men barking orders in foreign languages. He huddles closer to Phichit, trying to stave off the oncoming panic attack by focusing on his friend.

They’re almost at the front of the queue when another voice calls out. The guard in charge of keeping order in the queue turns with narrowed eyes, brandishing his weapon.

“Заткнись \- господин Никифоров!”

Immediately he straightens, bringing his hand up in a formal salute. The surrounding guards quickly catch on and mimic his actions. Phichit throws a glance over his shoulder, but Yuuri’s too preoccupied with the blackness flickering around the edges of his vision to notice Phichit’s sudden, wide smile.

“What are you doing?” The voice demands, this time in English, and the sound of approaching footsteps makes Yuuri look up. A tall man in a long black coat and neatly parted silver hair is standing a foot away from him, arms folded across his chest as he takes in the scene.

“Mr Nikiforov…” The guard in charge speaks up in broken English, hastily tucking his baton back into his belt before forcing a smile. The rest of his men do the same, and those holding onto prisoners take steps back and away from the terrified crowd. A mother rushes over to pick up her child, holding it close as it cries into her shoulder.

“Explain yourself.” The man’s voice is as cold as ice, and the guard shifts his weight, clearly made uncomfortable by the authority the newcomer is radiating.

“These people have illegally crossed Checkpoint and into city. They are not allowed here. We have orders. Sir.”

“And where do these orders come from, Captain?”

The Captain shifts again, nervously clearing his throat. “My men and I only try to protect city we love, Sir. You do understand, yes? Your parents and uncle understand as well.”

It’s the stranger’s turn to narrow his eyes, sliding his hands into the pockets of his coat instead.

“Do not presume I agree with your boss’ methods, Captain. These people are to be treated with respect, and Russian courtesy. We are not barbarians, and they are not animals. Do I make myself clear?”

The Captain nods stiffly. Inside the van the guards start to uncuff the previously loaded prisoners.

The stranger steps back again, eyes scanning the crowd once more, as if though searching for something. When his eyes land on Phichit and Yuuri he points out, impatiently snapping his fingers.

“One more thing. Those two do not belong in your van, Captain. They belong with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one's a bit of a transition/filler chapter so not that much happens, but we do finally get to meet Viktor! I promise the next chapter will feature much more of him (and Chris)! Thank you to everyone who's left kind comments, I read and cherish every single one. I hope you've all enjoyed the story so far. 
> 
> I'm still a relative beginner in Russian so I had to google these phrases. Please feel free to correct me if I got any of them wrong:
> 
> Да что ты о себе возомнил? - Who do you think you are?  
> Следи за своим ртом! - Watch your mouth!  
> Заткнись - Shut up  
> господин Никифоров - Mister/Sir Nikiforov


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “do not be afraid; our fate  
> cannot be taken from us; it is a gift.”
> 
> ― dante alighieri, inferno

Without waiting for the Captain to say another word the stranger turns, walking in the opposite direction across the square. Both Yuuri and Phichit scramble to follow him, both throwing occasional glances over their shoulders as the rest of the people are loaded into the van. The guards are being considerably more gentle while their Captain looks on, lips pressed into a thin line, his displeasure plain to see.

A sleek black car stands parked at the side of the square and a driver clad in a black uniform exits climbs out to hold open the door as they approach. Without waiting the silver haired man climbs into the car, and they hesitantly follow, sliding into the two leather seats facing backwards. On the bench beside the stranger sits Chris, smiling widely as the door closes and the engine comes to life. 

“Phichit! Yuuri!” He flashes them a grin that’s all bright white teeth, leaning forwards to ruffle Phichit’s hair. He’s dressed in an expensive looking striped suit, face all clean of glowing paint: a far cry from the man they’d met at the club. Yuuri  nervously tightens his grip on his rucksack when the car surges forwards and they leave the square behind. He turns to look out the window - only to find them tinted. 

“If I am honest, and of course I alvays am, I never thought you vould actually make it here!” Chris gushes, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees as he excitedly starts to talk. Beside him, the silver haired man is engrossed with the screen of his phone, legs crossed, uninterested in what’s going on around him. “I see so many travellers saying zey are coming to St. Petersburg, but you have no idea how few of zem actually make it! I am impressed. It must have been such a hard journey for you darlings"

“We almost didn’t make it.” Phichit says quietly, barely stifling a yawn. Yuuri swears he almost looks happy to see Chris. Chris nods sympathetically before clapping his hands together. “How exciting! You vere so lucky I saw you before you got into zat van! You vould be on your way back to Japan if I had not told Vitya to stop. He is alvays such a hero, and alvays so modest about it!”

“Who?” Yuuri asks, curiously looking around. The car’s interior alone looks like its worth more than everything he owns tenfold, all polished black leather and sleek silver metal. 

“Vitya- Well, Viktor.” Chris turns to the stranger, nudging him to catch his attention. “Ach, get off your phone and greet your guests! Zey have come such a long way.”

The man, Viktor, looks up, forcing a small smile. He’s dressed in a similar fashion to Chris, all old money, superiority, and ingrained elegance. A golden watch with a leather strap sits on his wrist, the black sleeve of his suit hiding his timer. Causally wondering just how rich he must be Yuuri looks up at him, startled to find a pair of icy blue eyes focused directly on him. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” Viktor says in perfect English, nodding curtly at each of them before returning to his phone. Chris huffs in exasperation, turning back to face Phichit and Yuuri. 

“You vill have to forgive him.. He’s a busy man. Although I’m not really sure vhat it is he does.. Alvays so secretive.” He shrugs, leaning back in his seat. The leather squeaks when he moves, the car rocking a little when they travel across a speed bump. “But it must be important. Ah, speaking of important! Tell me, have you recovered from your hangover, Yuuri?”

Chris looks pleasantly amused as Yuuri’s cheeks flush a bright red at the memory. He ducks his head, using his bangs to hide his face from view. Beside him Phichit laughs, one of his hands coming up to affectionately tousle’s Yuuri’s hair. 

“Just about. Right, Yuuri?”

“You should have seen him, Vitya,” Chris swoons. From his pocket he produces a pair of sleek black sunglasses to slide onto his nose, head inclined to glance at his silent friend. “Tongue blue as a blueberry, and zen danced ze night away before falling over and almost giving us all a heart attack! Phichit zought his timer had run out, but it turns out zat he was just too exhausted to stand another second! I suppose you are not used to partying so hard, yes, Yuuri?”

Without realising it Yuuri glances down at his forearm, gritting his teeth a little. The silver haired stranger has finally put down his phone and is listening to Chris rattle on, with Phichit’s occasional input, about the night Yuuri would rather not be reminded of. Viktor shows no signs of smiling throughout the entire thing, but Chris doesn’t seem perturbed. Yuuri thinks he either doesn’t notice on purpose, or he’s just too used to it to let it bother him. 

Eventually the car slows down before coming to a halt, and the front door opens to let out the driver. He’s a short man with neatly cropped black hair, and his uniform is smooth and pristine as he holds open the door for Viktor to exit the car. Chris gets out after him, and Yuuri and Phichit follow. When he looks up he sees they’re parked outside a large house decorated with greek columns, several marble steps leading up to a massive polished oak door. Viktor’s already halfway up the stairs by the time Phichit and Yuuri straighten up. Chris pockets his sunglasses again, patting them both on the shoulder. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Like something out of a history book.”

“It really is.. Incredible.“ Phichit murmurs, widening his eyes further as a second man dressed in a smart uniform opens the doors to greet Viktor with a low bow. Viktor disappears inside the house but the doors stay open, the man patiently waiting for the rest of them to lug their bags up the stairs. 

“We can’t afford a hotel, Chris.” Yuuri says, hesitantly following his friend up towards the door. Half expecting a group of guests to appear in the foyer he looks around, but there’s no reception desk, or any other sign of life apart from the distant sound of a dog barking.

“Hotel?” Chris sounds almost affronted, turning to face them once they’re inside. It’s nice and cool, the high walls all shiny white marble reflecting the light of a brilliant chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. Sparsely decorated, the only other  pieces of furniture are an almost empty shoe-rack and two small coffee tables sporting vases filled to the brim with colourful flowers. “This is no Hotel, my darling. Welcome to Viktor’s home. He’s been kind enough to offer you both a place to stay, just until you’ve found your feet again. It’s so pretty, ja? Vait until you see ze rest.”

Yuuri swallows thickly around the lump forming in his throat, casting another quick glance at his timer. 

_ Five days - seventeen hours. _

“That’s very kind of him, but we couldn’t possibly accept your offer-“

“Sure we can!” “You  _ absolutely _ must!” Phichit and Chris cry out in unison, and before Yuuri can do as much as begin to protest, Chris has waved over the butler to take their bags. Helplessly Yuuri watches the man disappear up the grand winding staircase with their rucksacks. With a triumphant smile, Chris rounds on the two of them.

“There. Now you can’t possibly leave. But you must be hungry! How are my manners? Come, let’s find you something to eat, zen you can go rest. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of excitement for today.” Waving them along he steps through a second set of double doors leading to a different part of the house. Further in, it’s all pale colours and soft curves, elegance and grace written in every corner. Tall porcelain vases hold pale purple flowers, cream coloured wallpaper blending in smoothly with the polished wood furniture. Viktor is nowhere to be found. 

“So, does Viktor live here with his family then? Or his wife? Are they okay with him letting strangers stay here?”

The dining room is twice the size of the Onsen’s humble eating area, a large dining table sitting in the centre. They take a seat on three of the elegantly carved wooden chairs, silk cushions and lining adding extra comfort. A large window offers a panoramic view of the city spread out beneath them, buildings shining in the sunlight. Viktor’s house must be seated on a hill, with all of St. Petersburg flowing around it. Chris shrugs off his suit jacket, neatly hanging it over the back of his chair before shaking his head. 

“Don’t you vorry about zat. He has a maid and ze butler living here with him. I spend so much of my time here as vell, you’d think I lived here! He really isn’t as bad as he seems, once you chip off all zat ice. It only took me about.. sixty-seven years to get him to trust me enough to relax. Don’t worry!”

“But that means he’s here without his family..?” Phichit inclines his head, brow furrowed. Yuuri frowns as well, resting his chin in his hands. The luxury of their surroundings are a stark contrast to what they’re used to from Hasetsu; It might be a small village, far away from the bustling lives of the people in Tokyo, or St. Petersburg, but the simplicity of it and the people there have always been a part of Yuuri’s life - a part of his family. It’s hard to imagine Viktor spending an eternity by himself in a house large enough to fit Yuuri’s entire hometown. 

Chris deflates a little, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. Before he can answer the door opens again and an elderly woman pushing a cart steps inside. She parks it beside the table, then proceeds to hand out a set of polished silver cutlery and a bowl filled with creamy, light green soup in it.

“Your usual, Mr. Giacometti.” She bows vaguely in Chris’ direction before retreating, taking the cart with her. Only when the doors close firmly behind her does Chris speak up again, forlornly staring at his bowl of soup. 

“Ze soup is only supposed to be eaten when I’m happy. What vas she thinking, serving it at a time like this? Now it is ruined.”

“What’s with his family?” Phichit presses on, fingers already wrapped around his spoon as he coaxes Chris out of his misery. “He’s rich, right? That means he has a  _ lot _ of time, which means he must be really old.. But how come he’s living all by himself? Isn’t that lonely?”

Taking a very deep, very dramatic breath, Chris leans against the table, gesturing for them both to lean in closer. He lowers his voice to a whisper, eyes darting around the room to make sure no uninvited ears are listening in on their conversation.

“They died ven he was twelve. They vere murdered - attacked in ze streets, robbed of zeir time, and zen left for dead. The animals zet did it vere never caught, but.. Well, it traumatised him. He vas only eleven. Imagine zat. His timer hadn’t even started yet.”

Phichit’s spoon lands in his soup with a loud clunk, splattering green soup across the white tablecloth and his own shirt.  “Robbed?” He repeats, staring at Chris with his mouth hanging open. It’s an unfamiliar concept to both of them, having grown up in a community so tightly knit that theft or murder remained well beyond Hasetsu’s borders. 

“Yes, it’s horrible, I know. He doesn’t like to talk about it. But zey were the richest family in ze city, and you simply can’t have all zat time without having a target on your back. My, some people even say his father was alive one thousand years ago, when people didn’t have timers and only lived eighty years. Zese are of course nothing but rumours, but can you  _ imagine _ zat? Only being eighty?” Chris shudders, picking up his own spoon. “I couldn’t. Eighty years is hardly enough to discover ze world, and to live your life to ze fullest. How boring it must have been, to die so early.”

“Some of us don’t reach eighty even now.” Yuuri mutters under his breath, but Chris has already continued telling his tale, looking far happier than a man speaking of murder and death ought to. 

“Vitya inherited everything, of course, being ze only heir. Ze house, Ze fortune. His timer started at twenty-five, as zey do, and he’s been living on his parents’ time ever since. Even I have to admit, he looks pretty good for two-hundred and sixty-seven. Not a single white hair. And no, he doesn’t dye zem. I asked.”

“He’s that old?” Yuuri croaks, glancing over as Phichit dabs up the spilt soup before continuing to eat. “The oldest person in our village was one-hundred and two.. and we still don’t know how he did it.”

“He is still relatively young for a man of his wealth and influence, I suppose,” Chris hums, focusing on getting every last drop of soup out of his bowl. “But people respect him. Even his adopted Uncle doesn’t tell him vat to do, and zat man is hard as stone. He scares  _ me _ .”

“Are you his only friend, then?”

“Yes, I do suppose I am, so to speak.. It’s a  _ long _ story. Zere was this girl once, Sara-“

“The one from Tokyo?”

“Yes! Well, zey were together for about four months, but in ze end he left her because of his work..”

Yuuri remains quiet for the rest of the meal while Phichit and Chris idly chat away. The pea soup is followed by an expensive tasting salmon steak with vegetables, but his appetite hasn’t resurfaced. Listlessly pushing the fish around on his plate, it takes him a while before he can muster up the courage to excuse himself. Ignoring Phichit’s pointed looks of concern, Yuuri leaves the dining room, slowly running a hand through his hair. 

The corridor he’s in has a thick, pale blue carpet, and several ornaments and vases stand on tables on either side. The walls are covered in paintings of woodland sceneries, each looking more expensive than the last. Yuuri takes his time to walk and admire the works of art, marvelling at the collection. Vivid colours jump out at him from each painting, and his chest constricts with nostalgia. How many times had he and Phichit spent the night camping in the forest surrounding Hasetsu? They’d caught fish in the lake, roasted marshmallows over a fire, then watched the stars until it became too painful to keep their eyes open. But those happy memories have faded into something darker, and he hurries out of the corridor without looking back.

Later on that evening, Yuuri and Phichit allow the butler to show them to their rooms. Both are larger than the entire living area of the Onsen, with soft double beds, french windows that open up onto a balcony overlooking the garden, and polished oak furniture. A huge TV hangs on the wall opposite the bed, and each nightstand has a Time Box with six years on them. 

“Mr. Nikiforov requests you make yourselves feel.. at home.” The butler informs them in a stiff tone, eyeing their small bags before marching over to throw open the curtains. He’d appeared out of nowhere after their meal with Chris had ended and promptly dragged them up to their rooms. “If you need time.. Well, you will.  _ When _ you need time, he asks that you make use of the Time Boxes waiting in your rooms. Should you need more, I am in charge of the Vault, and only I have the key to access it. Come to me if you need anything. Mr. Nikiforov is not to be disturbed.” He turns to face them with a cool smile, as if he’s just remembered that they’re supposed to be guests, not prisoners. “I hope you find everything to your liking. I am at your service whenever you need me.”

The door closes with a quiet click behind him, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Phichit and Yuuri are left by themselves. Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, Phichit puffs out his cheeks. Yuuri closes the curtains again, resting his forehead against the cool glass for several seconds before turning back to face Phichit. 

“So.. ”

“I don’t think we should stay here,” Yuuri admits quietly, fingers fiddling with his suddenly shabby seeming shirt. He feels grossly out of place surrounded by the elegance and class of the house. “We don’t know Viktor.. And we don’t know Chris well enough to trust him. What if they expect us to pay them back for their kindness? Or if they expect us to do anything for them? We don’t have anything to offer. I don’t like it.”

“You never like it when other people are kind to you, Yuuri.” Phichit counters, running his hands over the silk bed sheets with a wistful expression.

“It’s not just that. Something feels off. The way people are behaving, what Chris said about Viktor’s family.. I don’t feel safe. Your mother told us to come here to find something that can help you, but we have no idea what she meant. We should be out looking for it, not wasting time with potentially dangerous people. Couples don’t just get killed for no reason, not even here.”

The mention of his mother makes Phichit stiffen, and Yuuri immediately regrets ever opening his mouth. But then he sees that familiar, fiery determination in his friend’s eyes, and he’s overcome with a wave of gratefulness. Phichit’s strength is the only thing that’s keeping them going anymore.

“You’re right. We’re not here to get too comfortable. Let’s wait until it’s dark, then leave.” Phichit stands up, nodding firmly. Relief floods Yuuri and he mirrors the nod, going over to gently touch his friend’s shoulder.

“Are you Okay? So much as happened, I don’t even know how to feel anymore.”

“Yeah, me neither. It’s been really hard.. At least I’ve had a few things to distract me. What about you?”

Yuuri shrugs, letting his eyes wander across the room to avoid looking at his friend. He’s been trying so damn hard not to think about his parents or sister, just to stop himself from falling into a hole too deep to climb out again. A small part of him hopes they’ll be here, in St Petersburg, alive and well and just waiting for him to rescue them - but the more rational side of his brain is finding it harder to be convinced.

“Yuuri?” He can hear the concern in Phichit’s voice, and a guilty knot forms in his stomach. They have enough to worry about without Yuuri slowing them down by being a burden. Phichit needs him functional. Grief and loss can wait. A hand touches his shoulder and he leans into it, hastily clearing his throat. 

“I’m Okay, Phichit, really. Let’s just find whatever it is we’re supposed to be looking for, then go home.”

-

Yuuri’s bag sits ready in the corner after he steps out of the shower, packed with clean clothes they’d found in the wardrobes, a few bottles of water and various other items. He hates taking things off Viktor, so he only takes the necessities, trying to ignore the nagging guilt. He runs his fingers through his damp hair before stepping out onto the balcony. It’s a warm night, a gentle breeze carrying an array of flower smells up from the large garden. The moon is almost full in the night sky, the stars shining brilliantly. St Petersburg lays in relative silence around them. It’s a stark contrast to the nights they’d spent in the hotel in Tokyo - and not for the first time that day does he find himself missing the countryside around Hasetsu. Peaceful silence doesn’t seem to exist anywhere else.

He’s about to return to his room to finish getting dressed when a twig snaps somewhere in the darkness, and the thud of footsteps sounds across the gravelled path. Careful not to be seen Yuuri crouches down, pressing his face against the bars of the balcony railing. A second later a cloaked figure appears from behind a row of trees, hands crossed behind their back as they walk. Silver hair shines bright in the moonlight and Yuuri immediately recognises Viktor strolling down the path, head tilted upwards to gaze at the sky. There’s something almost alien about him and the way he holds himself; all dignified poise and grace. His legs are long, body slender and lean. His shoulders are broad, and Yuuri finds himself admiring the way his hair moves with each step he takes. It’s the first time he catches a proper glimpse of Viktor Nikiforov, walking like an angel beneath the stars. 

“Yuuri?”

Hastily jumping up, Yuuri scrambles to get back inside his room. Phichit closes the door behind him, backpack slung over one shoulder, face scrubbed clean of sweat and dirt. “Are you ready?”

“Almost, yeah.” Yuuri whispers in return, darting around the room to gather the rest of his clothes. His heart’s beating so loud he’s sure Phichit can hear it. Kneeling down he starts tying up his shoes, anxiously glancing back out towards the darkness. 

“What are you looking at?”

Before Phichit can take a step Yuuri grabs his hand, pulling him away from the balcony. In one swift movement he closes the french doors and draws the curtains, cheeks flushed a bright red. 

“Nothing! I just.. I saw Viktor outside.”

“Really?” Phichit raises an eyebrow, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. Yuuri finishes getting dressed before going over to ruffle up the sheets, stuffing a few pillows underneath the blanket until it looks like a curled up human shape. 

“Yeah. He was just walking, but I don’t know if we can get out through the garden anymore.”

“Which direction was he walking in? Towards the house?”

“Uhm no, away from the house, I think. I-I didn’t really see much.”

“Oh, he’s probably going to the greenhouse, then.” Phichit nods, adjusting the straps on his backpack. “Chris told me earlier that he goes there a lot at night. He likes plants and solitude, apparently. Sounds kinda sketchy to me.. But it’s pretty much on the other side of the garden, so we should be okay taking the route we planned.”

“He told you that?”

Phichit nods again, going over to turn off the bathroom light. After Yuuri finishes getting dressed they leave the bedroom, quietly making their way down the hall and towards the stairs. Phichit had managed to convince Chris to give him the grand tour of the house, and had discovered a back exit leading from the dining room straight out to the garden in the process. The thick carpet muffles any and all noise as they walk, sticking close to each other, careful not to trip. 

“Don’t you think it’s weird that we haven’t seen a Time Agent yet?” Yuuri whispers as they reach the landing, both of them peering over the railing to make sure the way is clear. As far as he knows, every household in the world has one, by order of the Government.

“Yeah. Maybe he doesn’t have one?” Phichit whispers back, tugging him down the next flight of stairs. With the butler nowhere to be seen they dart across the foyer, retracing their steps back to the now dark dining room. Yuuri takes only a step forwards before bumping into something hard, almost knocking him sideways into Phichit. They both freeze, barely daring to breathe for several moments while waiting to see if anyone heard. But the room remains dark and the house remains quiet, unaware of its two guests sneaking out through the back door. 

The breeze picks up when they step outside, rustling the leaves of the trees. A wind-chime sounds from somewhere in the distance, moon and stars bright in the sky above. Were it not for the fact that they’re sneaking out of the back of a stranger’s house in the dead of night, Yuuri thinks he might be able to enjoy sitting in the garden under a starry sky, alone save for the plants around him. Phichit holds onto his hand as they sneak around the back of the house, careful to stay close to the walls. A few times they’re forced to crawl past a window to avoid being spotted by Chris or the butler, but no one comes to stop them.

The garden and the property around the house stretches out for as long as what seems like forever. The clouds shift a few moments after the pair reach the corner of the house, throwing the night back into darkness as they cover the moon. Phichit brings out the torch he’d found in his cupboard, the light beam faint against the grass. Neither Yuuri nor Phichit utter a single word as they walk, heads ducked, weaving their way through the growth. Save for the quiet sound of cars coming from the city centre, their surroundings remain quiet. Yuuri had half expected a place like this to have a better security system, but all remains quiet even as they throw their packs over the large iron wrought gates they’d driven through only hours earlier, breaths coming out short as they hoist themselves over the gold painted spikes at the top. 

“That seemed almost too easy..” Phichit mutters once they’re a few streets away from Viktor’s home, crouched in a dark alley while he puts away his torch. They must be in one of the city’s richer neighbourhoods, because all the houses around them are mansions, each property fenced off by towering iron gates with spikes. A few dogs bark each time they pass a gate, but they’re left to go unhindered. 

“You’d think someone with that much time to lose would invest in a better security alarm system.”

Yuuri shrugs, just glad to be away from the weary emptiness of the house. “Maybe he doesn’t care if someone steals some of his time. He must have more than enough to stay alive, even if they take a thousand years off of him.”

“You really think he’s that rich? What’s he gonna do when everyone else around him runs out of time? Is he going to be the only person in the world?”

“I don’t know. But I think he’s selfish and spoilt, and I don’t like him.”

Phichit looks aghast, glancing over at Yuuri with a bemused expression. 

“Whaaaaat?”

“Nothing, I.. I just didn’t think you were capable of disliking someone!”

“I dislike plenty of people!”

Phichit grins, linking their arms together as they walk. In the darkness all the houses and roads look exactly the same, but as long as they manage to get as far away from Viktor and Chris as possible, Yuuri doesn’t care where they end up in the morning. In fact, he can’t help but think that he’s made the biggest mistake of his life by convincing Phichit to come to St. Petersburg. What if his family is alive in Japan? What if they’re looking for him, and he’s gone ahead and rushed headfirst into danger without a second thought? What is he risking Phichit’s life for? A part of Yuuri already knows that he’ll never see his parents again.

He’s about to suggest they return to the city borders to organise passage back to Japan when Phichit stops in his tracks, pulling Yuuri backwards and out of his thoughts. They’re still surrounded by large house and gardens, and there isn’t an affordable looking hotel in sight. 

“Phichit..? What are you-“

“We’re being followed,” Phichit whispers, pressing himself closer against Yuuri’s side. “Don’t look back. Let’s just keep walking, maybe they’ll get bored and leave.”

Immediately Yuuri starts to panic, pulling the sleeve of his jacket further down to hide his timer. He hadn’t considered the thought of thieves slinking around the alleyways while coming up with a plan to escape Viktor’s house, and save for the water bottle tucked into the back of his rucksack, the pair have nothing to defend themselves with. It’s a struggle resisting the urge to break into a sprint as Phichit ushers him forwards again. The neighbourhood no longer looks like a charming area for the rich to live, but a hive of nooks and crannies hiding all kinds of people Yuuri doesn’t want to cross paths with. Self-defence had never arisen as an issue within Hasetsu’s safeguarded community.

They turn a corner, and holding his breath, Yuuri can hear the scuffle of footsteps coming from behind them. Phichit squeezes his arm, looking as fiercely determinate as he had the day they’d left Japan behind - and a second later they break into a run, still holding onto each other’s hand as they dash down the empty street. Sure enough the footsteps behind them speed up, followed by the sound of someone cursing in Russian. Yuuri risks throwing a look over his shoulder, and his heart sinks; a group of three bulky men is at their heels, footsteps heavy in the otherwise silent night as they chase Yuuri and Phichit down the road. Phichit gives his hand a tug and they swerve to the right, rounding yet another corner. Looking forwards again, Yuuri’s about to open his mouth to call out to Phichit when something hard hits his knees and he goes down, landing in a heap on the floor with a heavy thud. Yanked backwards by the momentum, Phichit lands on his hands and knees beside him, cursing quietly. Two more men appear beside them as the trio finally catches up. One of the newcomers is holding a metal baseball bat, the other a smoking cigarette which he tucks between his lips before crouching down beside Yuuri. 

“Who are you?”

Yuuri swallows dryly, fingers scrambling across the concrete to try and find his glasses. They’d fallen off after the fall, and all he can make out is a figure with dark hair kneeling inches away from his face. 

“I need my..”

The second figure approaches, ungently shoving Yuuri’s glasses back onto his nose. He yelps, crawling backwards and away from the pair. 

“Here, you stupid pig. Next time I’ll glue them to your face, so you don’t lose them anymore. Now answer the question. Who are you, and why are you running around on our streets in the middle of the night? We don’t like strangers around here.”

Blinking sluggishly, Yuuri looks up at their captors. The dark-haired one stands up again, arms folded over his chest. He looks terrifying in a black leather jacket, baseball bat resting across his shoulder. A large motorcycle is parked just behind him, and the way he leans back against it makes Yuuri think it’s his. Beside him, the man who’d shoved Yuuri’s glasses back onto his nose narrows his eyes. Bright blond hair sits upon his head in a messy bun, ash flaking off the cigarette tucked between the corner of his mouth. Despite his small stature, the way he’s looking at them on the floor makes Yuuri’s stomach drop. 

“We’re just visiting.” Phichit speaks up from beside Yuuri, and in the darkness, his fingers wrap around Yuuri’s wrist. “We don’t want any trouble, and we don’t have anything for you to take. Go ahead, search the bags. We’re travellers.”

The short blond leans forwards with a sneer, blowing out a cloud of smoke before ditching the cigarette. Only now does Yuuri see the small silver knife he has in his hand.

“I don’t give a shit about your bags. Show me your arms.”

Hesitantly, both Yuuri and Phichit begin rolling up their sleeves, stretching out their arms for him to see. The numbers on their timers glow a bright green in the dark, precious seconds ticking away as  the five men turn to the side to have a quick discussion. Phichit huddles closer against Yuuri’s side, lips pressed together in a fine line. 

“If you get the bat off the tall one, we could get away on the bike.”

“There’s no way I can do that. He’s way too tall. He’d hit me with it before I even got my hands anywhere near him.”

Phichit deflates a little, shaking down his sleeve again. The three bulky men who’d chased them down the road turn to leave, and Yuuri and Phichit are left with the two newcomers. 

The one with the baseball bat turns back to them as the smaller climbs onto the motorcycle, face hidden away behind the bulky helmet. Revving the engine he brings the bike around in a circle before speeding off down the road. His friend waits until he’s out of sight before using the bat to prod both Yuuri and Phichit in the chest, expression still stoic and cold. 

“Get up. You’re coming with us.”

They climb to their feet as he picks up both bags, using the bat to shepherd them down the road. Yuuri bows his head as they walk, hyper aware of the metal weapon hanging only inches away from his body. The night is cold and dark, and the safety of Viktor’s mansion, though questionable, is all he can think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a long time, but I hope you still enjoy reading it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone
> 
> \- john steinbeck

The bar is rowdy and crowded, full of cloaked figures and the kind of people Yuuri’s mother’s warned him to stay away from all his life. The man with the baseball bat weaves through the crowd with Yuuri and Phichit on either side, his hands fisted into the fabric of both their shirts. An empty table stands in the corner and he manoeuvres them towards it, letting go once they’re sitting. He leans the bat against the side of the table and, sliding off his gloves, sits down in the chair beside Phichit with his back to the wall. Under the table Yuuri reaches out to hold onto his friend’s hand, their fingers lacing together. 

For a while they sit in silence as the man keeps his eyes trained on the door, posture closed off with his arms folded over his chest. In the dim light of the bar he looks younger than Yuuri had first imagined - barely older than Phichit or himself. His dark eyes are intense, jawline sharp, lips pressed together in a thin line. He doesn’t move or give them any indication as to why they’re here, only shifting his weight once a second figure approaches their table. It’s his blond partner, and the boy takes the last empty seat with a scowl. 

“Stop looking so fucking scared, we’re not going to rob you. You’d already be dead if we wanted your time.” His tone carries irritation, his English as heavily accented as Chris’. He looks even younger still, the hair falling to his shoulders framing an elegant face. He looks radiant and sorely out of place in the smoky room, the only thing matching his attitude the ferocity in his eyes. “You should be grateful you ended up running into us, and not someone else.”

He leans back in his chair, kicking up his feet to cross them on the table. Sliding another cigarette between his lips, he narrows his eyes at Yuuri. “My name is Yuri Plisetsky. He’s Otabek. This is our area you’re trespassing in, and we don’t like that kind of behaviour.”

Phichit shifts to the outer edge of his chair to get away from the boots on the table, and Yuri smirks. “We didn’t know this was your area. We just arrived here, and we were looking for a hotel-“

“Where did you come from?” Otabek speaks up, his voice barely audible over the general rumble of the bar. 

“Japan.” Phichit replies, eventually regaining his composure enough to straighten his spine a fraction. “We don’t want trouble. We don’t have anything to give you, all we want is to find somewhere to spend the night, and then we’ll be out of your way.”

Yuuri coughs quietly at the cloud of smoke wafting into his face, but neither Yuri nor Otabek pay him any attention. Otabek leans towards them with his elbows on his knees, and Yuri removes his feet from the table to scoot closer to Phichit.

“You were looking for a hotel...”

“Yes.”

“… In the richest area of the city?” Uninvited he reaches out to grab Phichit’s sleeve, yanking it up to expose his timer. Seeing the green numbers, he laughs loudly, the sound like blades on ice. “With that pathetic amount of minutes? You’d be dead long before anyone took you in. You look like sewer rats. Anyway, you might want to push that down again. Any man in here will kill you for even just a few hours.”

The curve returns to Phichit’s spine as he curls up in on himself, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he pushes down his sleeve again. Yuri puts his feet up once more, exhaling another mouthful of smoke. Beside him, Otabek’s furrowing his brow, eyes darting between Yuuri and Phichit as he silently ponders.

Before anyone else can speak up, a shadow falls across the table, and a pair of towering men lean down to glare at Yuri. One of them brandishes a knife, the other loudly cracking his knuckles as he speaks in a language Yuuri doesn’t understand. 

“You still owe us money, Plishitsky.”

Yuri narrows his eyes, grunting something to Otabek. He nods, and Yuri turns back to the men, replying in English while side eying Yuuri and Phichit.

“I got something even better. We play for these two.” He gestures at the two prisoners.

Half expecting Yuri to be joking, Yuuri’s heart misses a beat as one of the men grabs his chin, leaning in close enough for Yuuri to smell the sweat and alcohol pouring off of him. With a yelp, he pulls away, bumping backwards into Otabek in his haste to get as far away from the man as possible. Otabek doesn’t move, his body solid muscle pressed against Yuuri’s shoulder-blades.

“Ok.” The man grunts, and he extends his hand. Yuri gives it a quick shake before standing up, killing the cigarette bud on the worn table top. “We win, we pick one. You win, you give us only money.”

“That’s not how it works, shitbrain,” Yuri snaps, knife flashing in the overhead light as the man takes a threatening step towards him. “We win, you leave us alone until you die.” Beside Yuri, Otabek rises to his feet, the baseball bat back in his hands. The guys take one look at him before conceding, and they step away from the table to let Yuri pass. 

Phichit and Yuuri stagger to their feet as Otabek gives them both a push, and they follow Yuri through the crowd which seems to be parting like the red sea before him. Yuuri tightens his grip around Phichit’s hand, unable to stop himself from shaking like a leaf. Phichit doesn’t look much better, but the warmth of his body beside Yuuri is a small comfort at least as they’re ushered to the back of the room and down a narrow set of stairs. 

The basement smells even worse than the bar above and Yuuri’s eyes water at the thick blanket of smoke trapped just beneath the ceiling. Fewer people are spread throughout the room and the noise of the bar upstairs is somewhat muffled by the floor. Several tables are strewn across the room and small groups of people mingle around them, smoking and drinking as stacks of playing cards are shuffled around the tables. Yuri heads towards one of the empty tables, taking a seat across from the two men who’d followed them into the basement. Otabek pushes both Yuuri and Phichit into a chair, standing behind them with furrowed brows. 

Picking up the available stack of cards, Yuri starts to shuffle them, eyes narrowed at his two opponents. 

“Prepare to lose. This is my game.”

The larger of them grunts, picking up his cards as Yuri deals them. “Not so arrogant, little cat. Maybe your time will run out before we finish the game.”

Yuri’s laugh is cold, his arms pale in the dim light as he rolls up his sleeve. Yuuri widens his eyes at the twelve years stamped in green on his forearm, wordlessly watching Yuri transfer three years onto the time box attached to the edge of the table. 

“Let’s make it interesting, then. I have enough time to kick both your asses, then take all your minutes.”

Otabek leans forwards to murmur something in Russian but Yuri only impatiently waves him off, expression determined as they begin to play. Both the men deposit the same amount of time into the box, and Yuuri can’t help but stare at the number shining on the display; It’s more than enough to feed both their entire families for several months. 

Sighing in badly disguised exasperation, Otabek pulls up a third chair, sitting down. He’s still blocking Phichit and Yuuri’s way to the stairway, broad chest angled in a way making it impossible for either of them to get away from the table. His dark eyes narrow as Yuri plays and smokes, one hand curled into an inside pocket of his jacket. 

“W-What is he doing?” Phichit asks in a small voice, nervously twitching in his seat as Yuri swears in Russian, making the two men laugh. 

“He’s being an idiot.” Otabek responds, shoulders tense beneath his leather jacket. “And he is losing.”

Yuri slams another set of cards down onto the table, his expression travelling past angry and onto livid the moment one of the men bares his own cards with a triumphant grunt. 

“ _Mudak_! Otabek, give me more time-“

“No. You lost.” Both men rise to their feet, towering over Yuri’s form. Otabek’s on his feet a second later but Yuri holds up his hand, eventually standing up himself. He looks like a child compared to the men around them, too fragile to be playing cards with the likes of the goons stretching out their hands towards him. 

“Pay up, Plishitsky, or we take all your time and you play never again.”

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Yuri kicks back his chair, turning to round on Yuuri and Phichit. Beneath his bangs he looks furious, but remains silent as the two step over and yank Phichit to his feet. Immediately Yuuri lunges forwards, but Otabek’s hands on his shoulders stop him. 

“Phichit!”

“Yuuri!” Phichit vehemently starts to struggle against the pair of hands wrapped around his biceps, feet kicking and dragging across the floor as he’s manoeuvred away from the table and back towards the staircase. Eventually he’s picked up, flung over the shoulder of one of the men like a ragdoll. “Y-Yuuri, help! Yuuri!”

Yuuri can’t hear himself think over the sound of his owns screams mingling with those of his friend as he’s carried away, panic rising in his gut. Otabek’s grip momentarily slackens on his shoulders and he jumps forwards, only to be yanked back by Yuri, a fist tangled in his hair. “Phichit! Phichit!” Yuuri’s knees give out and he tumbles to the ground, ugly sobs wrenching themselves from his mouth. The rest of the basement falls silent but he doesn’t care, not when the only thing he can focus on is Phichit yelling in terror.

Yuuri’s stomach clenches and then he’s throwing up the lunch he’d forced down at Viktor’s house, tears and snot mingling as he heaves into his hands, wretched coughs tearing through is lungs. There’s movement behind him, a scuffle of feet, and then he’s being lifted off the ground, a pair of strong arms hooking under his knees and around the curve of his shoulders. Whoever’s carrying him starts forwards, but Yuuri’s too far gone to struggle. His throat burns, head throbbing as the tears continue to flow. Up the stairs and through the bar, but this time no one’s talking; all eyes are on Yuuri as he’s carried across the floor and out the door, a small bell jingling as it falls shut behind them. 

Yuuri curls up in the pair of arms holding him, pressing his face into the person’s chest with another series of small heaving sobs. There’s the sound of voices followed by the revving of an engine, and the person carrying him starts to walk away from the bar. He doesn’t know how long they’re walking or where they’re taking him, nose and cheeks still buried against the muscular chest. Eventually the steps slow down and Yuuri feels himself being lowered onto the ground, his glasses gently slid back onto his nose. The surface beneath him is hard, cold and rough, and he realises he’s curled up at the side of a road. The figure crouches down and Otabek’s familiar face comes into view. 

“We will find your friend. Go inside this house, and do not leave. You will be safe there.”

A second later Otabek’s face is gone from Yuuri’s view, and when he looks up, neither Yuri nor Otabek are anywhere to be seen. Pushing himself into an upright position, he looks around. The street he’s in is dark and empty, an identical mirage of the maze of roads he and Phichit had been wandering before stumbling into Otabek’s bat. It’s only after he turns around that the familiar house comes into view, marble columns gleaming white in the moonlight. Viktor’s home is as quiet as it had been the moment they left, no signs of life behind the dark windows. 

It has to be a coincidence, and Yuuri’s nerves are on edge as he slinks away from the house and back down the street. It takes him a while to stop crying long enough to come up with some idea of a plan, but it's fractured and precariously balanced; he’s never been outside of Japan before, and St. Petersburg looks like a monster ready to swallow him in the half-shadows. Nose running and hands numb with cold, Yuuri stumbles onwards, eventually giving up on trying to orientate himself. The Cyrillic street signs are of little help, and once the sun starts to rise and the streets begin to fill with people, he takes to the backstreets. 

God only knows how many hours have passed since Otabek had carried him out of the bar, and for all he can guess, Phichit might already be out of the city - or worse. Yuuri purposefully ignores his own timer, mind too foggy to concentrate on anything other than trying to find his friend. But it’s a fruitless effort, and the end of the day sees him huddled against the foot of a statue in the middle of a park, most of his body numb with cold.

If only they’d stayed in Japan. If only Yuuri hadn’t been selfish enough to drag a grieving Phichit away from their home, embarking on a wild goose chase with only one logical outcome; their death. Caught up in the pain and anguish of losing his family, he’d panicked, blindly stumbling, grasping onto clues and ideas that might well have remained naught but figures of his imagination. It was all his fault. His parent’s disappearing, Phichit’s mother timing out right in front of his eyes - the world seems to hate Yuuri with a vengeance rivalling his own self-deprecation, each second ticking away bringing him closer to the miserable end he’s sure to suffer. He just never thought he’d have to do it alone. 

Dusk turns to night and Yuuri remains huddled against the foot of the statue, too tired and cold to move any further. The park is pitch-black, the only light coming from his timer. Even the numbers on his forearm take no pity for him as he watches the minutes waste away, breath clouding in the winter night. Resting his forehead against his knees, Yuuri closes his eyes. He’s had his fair share of moments spent feeling like a failure, but the guilt of bringing Phichit into this danger weighs down on him heavier than anything ever has. He’d spent all day searching, calling out his name, praying and pleading to himself he wouldn’t be too late. People had stared as he stumbled past, but no one had deigned to help, and by the end of the afternoon he’d broken down in the grass and cried. 

He’s not sure how long he’s been sitting curled up in the grass, glasses askew on his face as he cries into his arm when the snow starts. Silently it falls, coating everything in a thin white sheen. The bulk of the statue doesn’t protect him for long and soon he’s covered in a thick white powder, shivering violently in the freezing cold. Feebly his body tries to warm him up, but somehow he’s already managed to accept that he won’t be leaving the park alive. The faces of his family flash before his eyes as Yuuri tries to recall his happiest childhood memories, clinging to them like a raft. His heart aches as he thinks about them, trying to remember his mother’s high-pitched laugh, or his father’s deep chuckles. Silently he hopes that their lives hadn’t ended the way his would; alone and pitiful, surrendering to a foe he’s never had a chance of defeating. 

Sudden warmth envelops him and Yuuri relaxes into it, eyes squeezed shut tight. There follows a feeling of weightlessness and he thinks to himself that maybe dying isn’t so bad after all. There’s no point in looking at his timer - he already knows what he’ll see; numbers turned black, a heavy  “ **00 00 00 00 00 00** ”  stamped onto his skin. He curls up against the warmth and with one last deep breath, lets himself go. 

-  
  


The first time he opens his eyes, his gaze meets that of a chubby little angel holding a harp, bright white wings spread out against the blue sky. He blinks, but the angel’s still there, chubby cheeks coloured a bright red, gold curls tumbling over its shoulders. Death is a lot more painful than he’d anticipated. A throbbing headache beats against his skull, and his entire body is too sore to move.  He’s lying on something soft and white, and it’d be easy to give into the temptation of believing he’s floating on a cloud on his way to heaven if it weren’t for the awful pain spasming behind his forehead. 

The next time Yuuri wakes up the angel is still there, but he’s conscious enough to realise that he’s not floating through the sky on a cloud, but rather bundled up in the thickest, softest blanket he’s ever seen. As his gaze wonders, the rest of the painted ceiling comes into focus, and it’s with a mixture of disappointment and relief that his brain finally registers that he isn’t dead. Struggling to sit up, Yuuri glances down at his arm. 

_ 150 years. _

The third time Yuuri opens his eyes, he’s no longer alone. A familiar face is watching him from across the room, and it takes Yuuri a moment or two to realise who it is. Viktor looks exhausted, heavy dark rings under his eyes as he rests his gaze on Yuuri and the bed. He’s dressed far more casually than on their first meeting, and yet his timer is still cleverly hidden beneath his sleeve. Realising that Yuuri’s finally awake he straightens up, resting his elbows on his knees.

“You’re awake. How do you feel?”

Too exhausted to be afraid, Yuuri shrugs, only slowly managing to convince his body to work again. He pushes himself up into a sitting position, too late in noticing that he’s not wearing any clothes. Hastily, cheeks bright red, he pulls the blanket more firmly around himself, unable to meet Viktor’s gaze. Surely the butler had undressed him, not the Lord of the house himself.

“I’m fine. Surprised to be alive.  I thought I’d timed out.”

“You almost did.” Viktor exclaims quietly, a deep hurt showing in his eyes. Why someone like Viktor would even consider caring about someone like him, Yuuri has no idea. “What were you thinking, going off like that by yourself? You had ten seconds left when I found you.”

Swallowing thickly, Yuuri burrows further into the warm cocoon of blanket, head still pounding. The room he’s in is larger than the one he’d been given the first time, blinds drawn over the large window to his left. The painted ceiling looks exactly like something he’d expect to find in a house like this one. “I didn’t know what else to do. Phichit... ”

“You cried about it in your sleep. What happened?”

Anger rears its ugly head and Yuuri curls his hands into tight fists. “They took him. I don’t know where, but I have to find him. It’s my fault he’s here in the first place.”

“And you think wandering around the city in the middle of a Russian winter is the way to do that?” Viktor drawls, sounding almost as frustrated as Yuuri feels. “If your timer doesn’t end you, the cold will. This city is far more dangerous than you think.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea,” Yuuri snaps, vividly remembering Otabek’s grip on his shoulder, the snarl of Yuri’s voice, the twitching eyes of the patrons on him as they’d entered the bar. “And I don’t care. I brought Phichit here, and I’m not leaving him to die!"

Several seconds pass during which the only sound to be heard is Yuuri’s heavy breathing. Viktor leans back in the armchair, silent as he seems to ponder Yuuri’s words. The silence between them is stagnant and awkward, but Yuuri swallows down a hasty apology. 

“You should return to Japan.” Viktor states after a while, blue eyes narrowed as he takes in Yuuri’s form, huddled under the blanket. “I’ll organise safe passage for you. Go home.”

“I can’t...” Yuuri whispers, hyper aware of how closely Viktor’s still watching him. He pulls the blanket tightly around his shoulders, drawing it up so only his eyes peek out. “Not without Phichit.”

“I’ll find your friend. There’s nothing you can do to help.”

Before St. Petersburg and Viktor, Yuuri would have deflated at the sound of Viktor’s voice, keeping his anger and bitterness deep inside his heart without voicing further complaint. He’d have stood up and left, overcome with guilt, heart heavy with remorse. But this time he doesn’t budge. He owes Phichit that much.

“I used to be like that. I used to walk away from difficult situations, even if it meant upsetting someone. It was because I was weak, and I didn’t know how to help myself, let alone the people around me. But I’m not like that anymore. I’m stronger. I’m staying here and I’ll find Phichit. I’m not leaving this city without him.” He pauses, as surprised as Viktor at his sudden outburst. But he’s more determined than embarrassed, and lowering the blanket from his face, he pushes on. “You can try and stop me, but it won’t work. Phichit is all I have. I  _ will _ find him.”

“I admire your courage, Yuuri. But you’re being reckless. You’re going to get yourself killed-“

“I don’t care. A world without Phichit in it, isn’t one I want to live in anyway.” He doesn’t miss the way Viktor raises an eyebrow, nor the way his body language changes as he folds his arms over his chest. Piercing blue eyes make Yuuri want to curl back up under the blanket, but he stands his ground, gritting his teeth until it’s Viktor who looks away, standing up with a heavy sigh. 

“Чушь какая. Fine, on your head be it.” Without another glance in Yuuri’s direction, he moves towards the door, stepping out of the room. Only after he’s left alone does Yuuri let out the breath he’d been holding, slumping back down against the mound of pillows. Viktor had found him in the nick of time, again. Had saved Yuuri’s life, again. He’d given Yuuri 150 years, and gone as far as agreeing to aid the search for Phichit. And yet despite Viktor’s unrestrained generosity, Yuuri feels queasy at the thought of being further indebted to him. He has nothing Viktor could possibly want, his only possessions the clothes on his body and the items tucked into his rucksack. 

Why then, has he been so insistent on helping Yuuri? It’s a troubling thought, and it accompanies Yuuri as his breathing evens out and he falls back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mudak! - Shit!  
> Чушь какая - God damn/fuck sake
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you're still enjoying the story. Maybe come say hi on [tumblr?](http://nikifforov.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback and comments are always greatly appreciated!


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